3   1822  01081   7906 


I 


CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


J 


3   1822  01081    7906 


The  ^uesf 


BY 
FREDERIK  VAN   EEDEN 


THE  AUTHORIZED  TRANSLATION 
FROM  THE  DUTCH  OF 

DE   KLEINE   JOHANNES 

BY 

LAURA   WARD   COLE 


MITCHELL    KENNERLEY 

NEW   YORK    AND    LONDON 

MCMXI 


COPYRIGHT    191 1    BY   MITCHELL   KENNERLEY 


TBE   UNIVERSITY  PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE,   U.S.A. 


PART    I 


THE    QUEST 
I 

I  WILL  tell  you  something  about  Little  Johannes  and  his  quest. 
My  story  is  very  like  a  fairy  tale,  but  everything  in  it  really 
happened.  As  soon  as  you  lose  faith  in  it,  read  no  farther, 
for  then  it  v^as  not  written  for  you.  And,  should  you  chance 
to  meet  Little  Johannes,  you  must  never  speak  to  him  about 
it,  for  that  would  grieve  him  and  make  me  sorry  I  had  told 
you  all  this. 

Johannes  lived  in  an  old  house  with  a  big  garden.  It  was 
hard  to  find  the  way  about  them,  for  in  the  house  were  many 
dark  halls,  flights  of  stairs,  chambers,  and  spacious  garrets; 
and  in  the  garden  everywhere  were  fencings  and  hot-houses. 
To  Johannes  it  was  a  whole  world  in  itself.  He  could  make 
far  journeys  in  it,  and  he  gave  names  to  everything  he  dis- 
covered. For  the  house  he  chose  names  from  the  animal 
kingdom;  the  caterpillar  loft,  because  there  he  fed  the  cater- 
pillars and  watched  them  change  their  state;  the  chicken 
room,  because  once  he  had  found  a  hen  there.  This  had  not 
come  of  itself,  but  had  been  put  there  by  Johannes'  mother, 
to  brood.  For  things  in  the  garden,  preferring  those  products 
of  which  he  was  most  fond,  he  chose  names  from  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  such  as  Raspberry  Mountain,  Gooseberry  Woods, 
and  Strawberry  Valley.  Behind  all  was  a  little  spot  he  named 
Paradise;  and  there,  of  course,  it  was  exceedingly  delightful. 
A  great  sheet  of  water  lay  there  —  a  pond  where  white  water- 
lilies  were  floating,  and  where  the  reeds  held  long,  whispered 
conversations  with  the  wind.  On  the  opposite  side  lay  the 
dunes.  Paradise  itself  was  a  little  grass-plot  on  the  near 
shore,  encircled  by  shrubbery.  From  the  midst  of  this  shot 
up  the  tall  nightingale-plant.  There,  in  the  thick  grass,  Johan- 
nes often  lay  gazing  through  the  swaying  stalks  to  the  gentle 
hill-tops  beyond  the  water.     He  used  to  go  every  warm  summer 

3 


4  THE    QUEST 

evening  and  lie  looking  for  hours,  without  ever  growing  weary  of 
it.  He  thought  about  the  still  depths  of  the  clear  water  before 
him  —  how  cozy  it  must  be  down  amid  the  water  plants,  in 
that  strange  half-light.  And  then  again,  he  thought  of  the 
far-away,  gloriously-tinted  clouds  which  hovered  above  the 
dunes  —  wondering  what  might  be  behind  them,  and  if  it 
would  not  be  fine  to  be  able  to  fly  thither.  Just  as  the  sun 
was  sinking,  the  clouds  piled  up  upon  one  another  till  they 
seemed  to  form  the  entrance  to  a  grotto;  and  from  the  depths 
of  that  grotto  glowed  a  soft,  red  light.  Then  Johannes  would 
feel  a  longing  to  be  there.  Could  I  only  fly  into  it!  he  thought. 
What  would  really  be  beyond  ?  Shall  I  sometime  —  some- 
time be  able  to  get  there  ? 

But  often  as  he  made  this  wish,  the  grotto  always  fell  apart 
in  ashen,  dusky  flecks,  and  he  never  was  able  to  get  nearer  to 
it.  Then  it  would  grow  cold  and  damp  by  the  pond,  and 
again  he  would  seek  his  dark  little  bedroom  in  the  old  house. 

He  lived  there  not  entirely  alone.  He  had  a  father  who 
took  good  care  of  him,  a  dog  named  Presto,  and  a  cat  named 
Simon.  Of  course,  he  thought  most  of  his  father,  but  he  by 
no  means  considered  Presto  and  Simon  so  very  much  beneath 
him,  as  a  big  man  would  have.  He  confided  even  more  secrets 
to  Presto  than  to  his  father,  and  for  Simon  he  felt  a  devout 
respect.  That  was  not  strange,  for  Simon  was  a  big  cat  with 
glossy,  black  fur,  and  a  thick  tail.  By  merely  looking  at  him 
one  could  see  that  he  was  perfectly  convinced  of  his  own  great- 
ness and  wisdom.  He  always  remained  dignified  and  proper, 
even  when  he  condescended  to  play  with  a  rolling  spool,  or 
while  gnawing  a  waste  herring-head  behind  a  tree.  At  the 
extreme  demonstrativeness  of  Presto  he  closed  his  green  eyes 
disdainfully,  and  thought:  "Well  —  dogs  know  no  better!" 

Can  you  realize  now,  that  Johannes  had  a  great  awe  of  him  ? 
He  held  much  more  intimate  relations  with  the  little  brown 
dog.  Presto  was  neither  beautiful  nor  superior,  but  an  un- 
usually good  and  sagacious  dog,  never  farther  than  two  steps 
away  from  Johannes,  and  patiently  listening  to  whatever  his 


THE    QUEST  5 

master  told  him.  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you  how  much  Johan- 
nes thought  of  Presto.  But  he  still  had  room  in  his  heart  for 
other  things.  Does  it  seem  strange  that  his  little  dark  bed- 
room, with  the  diamond  window-panes,  held  also  a  large  place  ? 
He  liked  the  wall-hangings,  with  the  big  flowers  in  which  he 
saw  faces  —  faces  he  had  so  often  studied  when  he  was  ill,  or 
while  he  lay  awake  mornings.  He  liked  the  one  small  picture 
that  hung  there.  It  represented  stiff  figures  walking  in  a  still 
stiffer  garden  beside  a  smooth  lake,  where  sky-high  fountains 
were  spouting,  and  coquetting  swans  were  swimming.  He 
liked  best,  however,  the  hanging  clock.  He  always  wound  it 
up  carefully  and  seriously,  and  considered  it  a  necessary 
courtesy  to  watch  it  while  it  was  striking.  At  least  that  was 
the  way  unless  he  happened  to  be  asleep.  If,  through  neglect, 
the  clock  ran  down,  Johannes  felt  very  guilty  and  begged  its 
pardon  a  thousand  times.  You  would  have  laughed,  per- 
haps, if  you  had  heard  him  in  conversation  with  his  room. 
But  confess  how  often  you  talk  to  your  own  self.  It  does  not 
appear  to  you  in  the  least  ridiculous.  Besides,  Johannes  was 
convinced  that  his  hearers  understood  him  perfectly,  and  he 
had  no  need  of  an  answer.  Secretly,  however,  he  expected 
an  answer  some  day  from  the  clock  or  the  wall-paper. 

Johannes  certainly  had  schoolmates,  but  they  were  not 
properly  friends.  He  played  with  them,  invented  plots  in 
school,  and  formed  robber  bands  with  them  out-of-doors;  but 
he  only  felt  really  at  home  when  he  was  alone  with  Presto. 
Then  he  never  longed  for  the  boys,  but  felt  himself  at  ease 
and  secure. 

His  father  was  a  wise  and  serious  man,  who  often  took 
Johannes  with  him  on  long  expeditions  through  the  woods 
and  over  the  dunes.  They  talked  but  little  —  and  Johannes 
followed  ten  steps  behind  his  father,  greeting  the  flowers  he 
met.  And  the  old  trees,  which  must  always  remain  in  the 
selfsame  place,  he  stroked  along  their  rough  bark  with  his 
friendly  little  hand.  Then  the  good-natured  giants  rustled 
their  thanks. 


6  THE    QUEST 

Sometimes  his  father  wrote  letters  in  the  sand,  one  by  one, 
and  Johannes  spelled  the  words  which  they  formed.  Again, 
the  father  stopped  and  taught  Johannes  the  name  of  some 
plant  or  animal. 

And  Johannes  often  asked  questions,  for  he  saw  and  heard 
many  perplexing  things.  He  often  asked  silly  questions.  He 
wanted  to  know  why  the  world  was  just  as  it  was,  why  plants 
and  animals  must  die,  and  if  miracles  could  take  place.  But 
Johannes'  father  was  a  wise  man,  and  did  not  tell  all  he  knew. 
That  was  well  for  Johannes. 

Evenings,  before  he  went  to  sleep,  Johannes  always  made  a 
long  prayer.  His  nurse  had  taught  him.  He  prayed  for  his 
father  and  for  Presto.  Simon,  he  thought,  did  not  need  to  be 
prayed  for.  He  prayed  a  good  while  for  himself,  too,  and 
almost  always  ended  with  the  wish  that  some  day  there  might 
be  a  miracle.  And  when  he  had  said  Amen,  he  peeped  ex- 
pectantly around  the  darkening  room,  at  the  faces  on  the 
wall-hangings,  which  looked  still  stranger  in  the  faint  twilight; 
and  at  the  door-knob,  and  the  clock,  where  the  miracle  ought 
now  to  begin.  But  the  clock  always  kept  on  ticking  in  the 
very  same  way  —  the  door-knob  did  not  stir  —  it  grew  quite 
dark,  and  Johannes  fell  asleep  without  having  seen  the  miracle. 

But  some  day  it  would  happen.     He  knew  it  would. 


II 

It  was  warm  by  the  pool  and  utterly  still.  The  sun,  flushed 
and  tired  with  his  daily  work,  seemed  to  rest  a  moment  on  the 
rim  of  the  dunes,  for  a  breathing  spell  before  diving  under. 
The  smooth  water  reflected,  almost  perfectly,  the  flaming  face 
of  the  sun.  The  leaves  of  the  beech  tree  which  hung  over  the 
pond  took  advantage  of  the  stillness  to  look  at  themselves 
attentively,  in  the  mirror-like  water.  The  solitary  heron, 
standing  on  one  foot  between  the  broad  leaves  of  a  water-lily, 
forgot  that  he  had  come  out  to  catch  frogs,  and,  deep  in  thought, 
was  gazing  along  his  nose. 

Then  came  Johannes  to  the  grass  plot,  to  see  the  cloud- 
grotto.  Plump!  plump!  sprang  the  frogs  from  the  bank. 
The  mirror  was  all  rippled,  the  image  of  the  sun  was  broken 
up  into  broad  bands,  and  the  beech  leaves  rustled  angrily,  for 
they  had  not  yet  viewed  themselves  long  enough. 

Fastened  to  the  bare  roots  of  a  beech  tree  lay  a  little  old 
boat.  Johannes  had  been  strictly  forbidden  to  get  into  it; 
but,  oh,  how  strong  the  temptation  was  this  evening!  The 
clouds  had  already  taken  the  semblance  of  a  wondrous  portal, 
behind  which  the  sun  would  soon  sink  to  rest.  Glittering 
ranks  of  clouds  ranged  themselves  at  the  sides,  like  a  golden- 
armored  life-guard.  The  face  of  the  water  reflected  the  glow, 
and  red  rays  darted  through  the  reeds  like  arrows. 

Slowly,  Johannes  loosened  the  boat-rope  from  the  roots. 
He  would  drift  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  splendor.  Presto 
had  already  sprung  into  the  boat,  and  before  his  master  in- 
tended it  the  reeds  moved  apart,  and  away  they  both  drifted 
toward  the  evening  sun. 

Johannes  lay  in  the  bow,  and  gazed  into  the  depths  of  the 
light-grotto.  Wings!  thought  he.  Wings  now,  and  away  I 
would  fly! 

The  sun  had  disappeared,  but  the  clouds  were  ail  aglow. 

7 


8  THE    QUEST 

In  the  east  the  sky  was  deep  blue.  A  row  of  willows  stood 
along  the  bank,  their  small,  pale  leaves  thrust  motionlessly 
out  into  the  still  air.  They  looked  like  exquisite,  pale-green 
lace  against  the  sombre  background. 

Hark!  What  was  that  ?  It  darted  and  whizzed  like  a  gust 
of  wind  cutting  a  sharp  furrow  in  the  face  of  the  water.  It 
came  from  the  dunes  —  from  the  grotto  in  the  clouds! 

When  Johannes  looked  round,  a  big,  blue  dragon-fly  sat  on 
the  edge  of  the  boat.  He  had  never  seen  one  so  large.  It 
rested  there,  but  its  wings  kept  quivering  in  a  wide  circle. 
It  seemed  to  Johannes  that  the  tips  of  its  wings  made  a  lu- 
minous ring. 

That  must  be  a  fire  dragon-fly,  he  thought  —  a  rare  thing. 

The  ring  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  the  wings  whirled  so 
fast  that  Johannes  could  see  nothing  but  a  haze.  And  little 
by  little,  from  out  this  haze,  he  saw  the  shining  of  two  dark 
eyes;  and  a  light,  frail  form  in  a  garment  of  delicate  blue  sat 
in  the  place  of  the  dragon-fly.  A  wreath  of  white  wind- 
flowers  rested  upon  the  fair  hair,  and  at  the  shoulders  were 
gauzy  wings  which  shimmered  in  a  thousand  hues,  like  a 
soap  bubble. 

A  thrill  of  happiness  coursed  through  Johannes.  This  was 
a  miracle! 

"Will  you  be  my  friend  ?"  he  whispered. 

That  was  a  queer  way  of  speaking  to  a  stranger.  But  this 
was  not  an  every-day  case,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  had  always 
known  this  little  blue  being. 

"Yes,  Johannes,"  came  the  reply,  and  the  voice  sounded 
like  the  rustling  of  the  reeds  in  the  night  wind,  or  the  pattering 
of  rain-drops  on  the  forest  leaves. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Johannes. 

"I  was  born  in  the  cup  of  a  wind-flower.  Call  me  Winde- 
kind."* 

Windekind  laughed,  and  looked  in  Johannes'  eyes  so  merrily 
that  his  heart   was  blissfully  cheered. 

"To-day  is  my  birthday,"  said  Windekind.     "I  was  born 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


THE    QUEST  9 

not  far  away,  of  the  first  rays  of  the  moon  and  the  last  rays  of 
the  sun.  They  say  the  sun  is  feminine.*  It  is  not  true.  The 
sun  is  my  father." 

Johannes  determined  forthwith  to  speak  of  the  sun  as 
mascuHne,  the  next  morning,  in  school. 

"Look!  There  comes  up  the  round,  fair  face  of  my  mother. 
Good  evening.  Mother!  Oh!  oh!  But  she  looks  both  good- 
natured  and  distressed!" 

He  pointed  to  the  eastern  horizon.  There,  in  the  dusky 
heavens,  behind  the  willow  lace-work  which  looked  black 
against  the  silver  disk,  rose  the  great  shining  moon.  Her  face 
wore  a  pained  expression. 

"Come,  come,  Mother!  Do  not  be  troubled.  Indeed,  I 
can  trust  him!" 

The  beautiful  creature  fluttered  its  gauzy  wings  frolic- 
somely and  touched  Johannes  on  the  cheek  with  the  Iris  in 
its  hand. 

"She  does  not  like  it  that  I  am  with  you.  You  are  the  first 
one.  But  I  trust  you,  Johannes.  You  must  never,  never 
speak  my  name  nor  talk  about  me  to  a  human  being.  Do 
you   promise?" 

"Yes,  Windekind,"  said  Johannes.  It  was  still  so  strange 
to  him.  He  felt  inexpressibly  happy,  yet  fearful  of  losing  his 
happiness.  Was  he  dreaming  ?  Near  him.  Presto  lay  calmly 
sleeping  on  the  seat.  The  warm  breath  of  his  dog  put  him  at 
rest.  The  gnats  swarmed  over  the  face  of  the  water,  and 
danced  in  the  sultry  air,  just  as  usual.  Everything  was  quite 
clear  and  plain  about  him.  It  must  be  true!  And  all  the 
time  he  felt  resting  upon  him  the  trustful  glance  of  Windekind. 
Then  again  he  heard  the  sweet,  quavering  voice: 

"I  have  often  seen  you  here,  Johannes.  Do  you  know 
where  I  was  ^  Sometimes  I  sat  on  the  sandy  bottom  of  the 
pond,  among  the  thick  water  plants,  and  looked  up  at  you  as 
you  leaned  over  to  drink,  or  to  peep  at  the  water  beetles,  or 
the  newts.     But  you  never  saw  me.     And  many  times  I  peeped 

*  In  Dutch,  the  word  sun  is  feminine. 


10  THEQUEST 

at  you  from  the  thick  reeds.  I  am  often  there.  When  it  is 
warm  I  sleep  in  an  empty  reed-bird's  nest.  And,  oh!  it  is  so 
soft!" 

Windekind  rocked  contentedly  on  the  edge  of  the  boat,  and 
struck  at  the  gnats  with  his  flower. 

"I  have  come  now  to  give  you  a  little  society.  Your  life 
will  be  too  dreary,  otherwise.  We  shall  be  good  friends,  and 
I  will  tell  you  many  things  —  far  better  things  than  the  school- 
master palms  off  upon  you.  He  knows  absolutely  nothing 
about  them.  And  when  you  do  not  believe  me,  I  shall  let  you 
see  and  hear  for  yourself.     I  will  take  you  with  me." 

"Oh,  Windekind!  dear  Windekind!  Can  you  take  me 
there?"  cried  Johannes,  pointing  to  the  sky,  where  the  crim- 
son light  of  the  setting  sun  had  just  been  streaming  out  of  the 
golden  cloud-gates.  That  glorious  arch  was  already  melting 
away  in  dull,  grey  mist,  yet  from  the  farthest  depths  a  faint, 
rosy  light  was  still  shining. 

Windekind  gazed  at  the  light  which  was  gilding  his  delicate 
features  and  his  fair  locks,  and  he  gently  shook  his  head. 

"Not  yet,  Johannes,  not  yet.  You  must  not  ask  too  much 
just  now.     Even  I  have  not  yet  been  at  my  father's  home." 

"  I  am  always  with  my  father,"  said  Johannes. 

"No!  That  is  not  your  father.  We  are  brothers,  and  my 
father  is  your  father,  too.  But  the  earth  is  your  mother,  and 
for  that  reason  we  are  very  different.  Besides,  you  were  born 
in  a  house,  with  human  beings,  and  I  in  a  wind-flower.  The 
latter  is  surely  better.     But  it  will  be  all  the  same  to  us." 

Then  Windekind  sprang  lightly  upon  the  side  of  the  boat, 
which  did  not  even  stir  beneath  his  weight,  and  kissed  Jo- 
hannes' forehead. 

That  was  a  strange  sensation  for  Johannes.  Everything 
about  him  was  changed. 

He  saw  everything  now,  he  thought,  much  better  and  more 
exactly.  The  moon  looked  more  friendly,  too,  and  he  saw 
that  the  water-lilies  had  faces,  and  were  gazing  at  him  pen- 
sively. 


THE    QUEST  ii 

Suddenly  he  understood  why  the  gnats  were  all  the  time 
dancing  so  merrily  around  one  another,  back  and  forth  and  up 
and  down,  till  their  long  legs  touched  the  water.  Once  he 
had  thought  a  good  deal  about  it,  but  now  he  understood 
perfectly. 

He  knew,  also,  what  the  reeds  were  whispering,  and  he 
heard  the  trees  on  the  bank  softly  complaining  because 
the  sun  had  set. 

"Oh,  Windekind,  I  thank  you!  This  is  delightful.  Yes, 
indeed,  we  will  have  nice  times  together!" 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  said  Windekind,  spreading  his 
many-colored  wings.  Then  he  drew  Johannes  in  the  boat, 
over  the  water,  through  the  lily  leaves  which  were  glistening 
in  the  moonlight. 

Here  and  there,  a  frog  was  sitting  on  a  leaf.  But  now  he 
did  not  jump  into  the  water  when  Johannes  came.  He  only 
made  a  little  bow,  and  said:  "Quack."  Johannes  returned 
the  bow  politely.  Above  everything,  he  did  not  wish  to  appear 
conceited. 

Then  they  came  to  the  rushes.  They  were  wide-spread, 
and  the  boat  entirely  disappeared  in  them  without  having 
touched  the  shore.  But  Johannes  held  fast  to  his  guide,  and 
they  scrambled  through  the  high  stalks  to  land. 

Johannes  thought  he  had  become  smaller  and  lighter,  but 
perhaps  that  was  imagination.  Still,  he  could  not  remember 
ever  having  been  able  to  climb  up  a  grass  stalk. 

"Now  be  ready,"  said  Windekind,  "you  are  going  to  see 
something  funny." 

They  walked  on  through  the  high  grass,  beneath  the  dark 
undergrowth  which  here  and  there  let  through  a  small,  shin- 
ing moonbeam. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  crickets  evenings  in  the  dunes? 
It  is  just  as  if  they  were  having  a  concert.  Is  it  not  ?  But 
you  can  never  tell  where  the  sound  comes  from.  Now  they 
never  sing  for  the  pleasure  of  it;  but  the  sound  comes  from 
the    cricket-school    where    hundreds    of    little    cric-kets    are 


12  THEQUEST 

learning  their  lessons  by  heart.  Keep  still,  for  we  are  close 
to  them." 

Chirp!     Chirp! 

The  bushes  became  less  dense,  and  when  Windekind  pushed 
apart  the  grass  blades  with  his  flower,  Johannes  saw  a  brightly 
lighted,  open  spot  in  the  thin,  spindling  dune-grass,  where  the 
crickets  were  busily  learning  their  lessons. 

Chirp!     Chirp! 

A  big  fat  cricket  was  teacher,  and  heard  the  lessons.  One 
by  one  the  pupils  sprang  up  to  him;  always  with  one  spring 
forward,  and  one  spring  back  again,  to  their  places.  The 
one  that  made  a  bad  spring  was  obliged  to  take  his  stand 
upon  a  toadstool. 

"Pay  good  attention,  Johannes.  Perhaps  you  too  can  learn 
something,"  said  Windekind. 

Johannes  understood  very  well  what  the  little  crickets  an- 
swered. But  it  was  not  in  the  least  like  that  which  the  teacher 
of  his  school  taught.  First  came  geography.  They  knew 
nothing  of  the  parts  of  the  world.  They  were  only  obliged  to 
learn  twenty-six  dunes  and  two  ponds.  No  one  could  know 
anything  about  what  lay  beyond,  said  the  teacher,  and  what- 
ever might  be  told  about  it  was  nothing  but  idle  fancy. 

Then  botany  had  its  turn.  They  were  all  very  clever  at 
that,  and  there  v/ere  many  prizes  distributed:  selected  grass 
blades  of  various  lengths  —  tender  and  juicy.  But  the 
zoology  astonished  Johannes  the  most.  There  were  spring- 
ing, flying,  and  creeping  creatures.  The  crickets  could  spring 
and  fly,  and  therefore  stood  at  the  head.  Then  followed  the 
frogs.  The  birds  were  mentioned,  with  everytoken  of  aversion, 
as  most  harmful  and  dangerous.  Finally,  human  beings  were 
discussed.  They  were  great,  useless,  dangerous  creatures 
that  stood  very  low,  since  they  could  neither  fly  nor  spring; 
but  luckily  they  were  very  scarce.  A  wee  little  cricket  who 
had  never  yet  seen  a  human  being  got  three  hits  with  a  wisp 
because  he  numbered  human  beings,  by  mistake,  among  the 
harmless  animals. 


THEQUEST  13 

Johannes  had  never  heard  anything  like  this  before. 

Suddenly,  the  teacher  called  out:  "Silence.  The  springing 
exercise!"  Instantly  all  the  little  crickets  stopped  studying 
their  lessons  and  began  to  play  leap-frog.  They  played  with 
skill  and  zeal,  and  the  fat  teacher  took  the  lead. 

It  was  such  a  merry  sight  that  Johannes  clapped  his  hands 
with  joy. 

At  the  sound,  the  entire  school  rushed  off  in  a  twinkling  to 
the  dunes;  and  the  little  grass  plot  was  as  still  as  death. 

"See  what  you  have  done,  Johannes!"  cried  Windekind. 
"You  must  not  be  so  rude  —  one  can  very  well  see  that  you 
were  born  among  human  beings." 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  will  try  my  best  to  behave.  But  it  was  so 
funny!" 

"It  is  going  to  be  funnier  still,"  said  Windekind. 

They  cut  across  the  grass  plot  and  ascended  the  dunes  on 
the  other  side. 

Ah,  me!  It  was  hard  work  in  the  deep  sand,  but  Johannes 
caught  hold  of  Windekind's  light  blue  garment,  and  then  he 
sped  quickly  and  lightly  up  the  slope.  Half-way  to  the  top 
was  a  rabbit-hole. 

The  rabbit  whose  home  it  was  lay  with  his  head  and  fore- 
paws  out  of  the  entrance.  The  sweet-briar  was  still  in  flower, 
and  its  faint,  delicate  fragrance  mingled  with  that  of  the  wild 
thyme  which  was  growing  near. 

Johannes  had  often  seen  rabbits  disappear  into  their  holes. 
He  wondered  what  it  was  like  inside  them,  and  about  how 
many  could  sit  together  there,  and  if  it  would  not  be  very 
stifling.  So  he  was  very  glad  when  he  heard  his  companion  ask 
the  rabbit  if  they  might  take  a  peep  inside. 

"Willingly,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  the  rabbit, 
"but  unfortunately,  it  just  happens  that  I  have  resigned  my 
dwelling  this  evening  for  the  giving  of  a  charity-festival.  So, 
really,  I  am  not  master  in  my  own  house." 

"Ah,  indeed!     Has  there  been  an  accident?" 

"Alas,    yes!"    said    the     rabbit,    sorrowfully.     "A    great 


14  THEQUEST 

calamity.  We  shall  not  recover  from  it  in  years.  A  thousand 
jumps  from  here  a  house  for  human  beings  has  been  built  — 
a  big,  big  house  —  and  there  those  creatures  with  dogs  have 
come  to  live.  Fully  seven  members  of  my  family  have  per- 
ished through  their  deeds,  and  three  times  as  many  more  have 
been  bereft  of  their  homes.  And  matters  are  still  worse  with 
the  Mouse  and  the  Mole  families.  And  the  Toads  have  suf- 
ered  heavily.  So  we  have  gotten  up  a  festival  for  the  benefit  of 
the  surviving  relatives.  Everybody  does  what  he  can.  I 
gave  my  hole.  One  ought  to  have  something  to  spare  for  his 
fellow-creatures." 

The  compassionate  rabbit  sighed  and,  pulling  a  long  ear 
over  his  head  with  his  right  forepaw,  wiped  a  tear  out  of  his 
eye.     His  ear  was  his  handkerchief. 

Then  something  rustled  in  the  grass,  and  a  stout,  clumsy 
figure  came  scrabbling  up  to  the  hole. 

"Look!"  said  Windekind.  "Here  comes  Father  Toad  — 
hopping  along." 

Then  followed  a  pun  at  the  toad's  expense. 

But  the  toad  paid  no  attention  to  the  jest.  His  name  fur- 
nished occasion  for  frequent  jokes.  Composedly  he  laid 
down  by  the  entrance  a  full  ear  of  corn,  neatly  folded  in  a  dry 
leaf,  and  then  he  climbed  dexterously  over  the  back  of  the 
rabbit  into  the  hole. 

"  May  we  go  in  ? "  asked  Johannes,  who  was  full  of  curiosity. 
"I  will  give  something,  too!" 

He  remembered  that  he  still  had  a  biscuit  in  his  pocket  — 
a  little  round  biscuit  of  Huntley  and  Palmer's.  As  he  pulled 
it  out  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  how  small  he  had  become. 
He  could  scarcely  lift  it  with  both  hands,  and  could  not  under- 
stand how  his  pocket  had  contained  it. 

"That  is  very  rare  and  expensive,"  said  the  rabbit.  "It  is 
a  costly  gift." 

The  entrance  was  respectfully  made  free  to  them  both. 
It  was  dark  in  the  cave,  and  Johannes  let  Windekind  go  in 
front.      Soon,  they  saw  a   pale-green   light  approaching.     It 


THEQUEST  15 

was  a  glow-worm,  who  obligingly  offered  to  light  the  way 
for  them. 

"It  promises  to  be  a  very  pleasant  evening,"  said  the  glow- 
worm, as  he  led  them  on.  "There  are  a  great  many  guests. 
You  are  elves,  I  should  say.  Is  it  not  so  ? "  With  these  words, 
the  glow-worm  glanced  at  Johannes  somewhat  suspiciously. 

"You  may  announce  us  as  elves,"  replied  Windekind. 

"Do  you  know  that  your  king  is  at  the  party?"  continued 
the  glow-worm. 

"Is  Oberon  here  ?  That  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure," 
exclaimed  Windekind.     "I   know   him   personally." 

"Oh!"  said  the  glow-worm.  "I  did  not  know  I  had  the 
honor  to  .  .  .  ."  and  his  light  nearly  went  out  from  fright. 
"Yes,  His  Majesty  much  prefers  the  open  air,  but  he  is  always 
ready  to  perform  a  charitable  act.  This  is  going  to  be  a 
most  brilliant  affair!" 

It  was  indeed  the  case.  The  main  room  in  the  rabbit  cave 
was  splendidly  decorated.  The  floor  had  been  trodden 
smooth,  and  strewn  with  fragrant  thyme.  Directly  in  front 
of  the  entrance  a  bat  was  hanging,  head  downward.  He 
called  out  the  names  of  the  guests,  and  served  at  the  same 
time  as  a  measure  of  economy  for  a  curtain.  The  walls  of 
the  room  were  tastefully  adorned  with  dry  leaves,  spider-webs 
and  tiny,  suspended  bats.  Innumerable  glow-worms  crept 
in  and  out  of  these,  and  all  around  the  ceiling;  and  they  made 
a  most  beautiful,  ever-changing  illumination.  At  the  end  of 
the  chamber  was  a  throne,  built  of  bits  of  phosphorescent 
wood.     It  was  a  charming  spectacle. 

There  were  many  guests.  Johannes  felt  himself  rather  out 
of  place  in  the  strange  crowd,  and  drew  close  to  Windekind. 
He  saw  queer  things  there.  A  mole  was  chatting  with  a 
field-mouse  about  the  handsome  decorations.  In  a  corner 
sat  two  fat  toads,  nodding  their  heads  at  each  other,  and 
bewailing  the  continued  dry  weather.  A  frog,  arm  in  arm 
with  a  lizard,  attempted  a  promenade.  Matters  went  badly 
with  him,  for  he  was  timid  and  nervous,  and  every  once  in  a 


i6  THEQUEST 

while  he  jumped  too  far,  thus  doing  damage  to  the  wall  decora- 
tions. 

On  the  throne  sat  Oberon,  the  elf-king,  encircled  by  a  little 
retinue  of  elves.  These  looked  down  rather  disdainfully 
upon  their  surroundings.  The  king  himself  was  most  royal 
in  his  affability,  and  conversed  in  a  friendly  way  with  various 
guests.  He  had  come  from  a  journey  in  the  Orient,  and  wore 
a  strange  garment  of  brightly  colored  flower-petals.  Flowers 
like  that  do  not  grow  here,  thought  Johannes.  On  his  head 
rested  a  deep  blue  flower-cup,  which  was  still  as  fragrant  as 
though  it  had  just  been  picked.  In  his  hand  was  his  sceptre 
—  the  stamen  of  a  lotus-flower. 

All  present  were  quietly  lauding  his  goodness.  He  had 
praised  the  moonlight  on  the  dunes,  and  had  said  that  the 
glow-worms  here  were  almost  as  beautiful  as  the  fireflies  of 
the  Orient.  He  had  pleasantly  overlooked  the  wall  decora- 
tions, and  a  mole,  even,  had  noticed  that  he  nodded  approv- 

"Come  with  me,"  said  Windekind.  "I  will  present  you." 
And  they  pressed  forward  to  the  place  where  the  king  sat. 

When  Oberon  recognized  Windekind,  he  greeted  him  joy- 
fully, and  gave  him  a  kiss.  At  that  the  guests  whispered  to 
one  another,  and  the  elves  threw  envious  glances  at  the  pair. 
The  two  plump  toads  in  the  corner  mumbled  together  some- 
thing about  "fawning  and  flattering,"  and  "not  lasting  long," 
and  then  nodded  very  significantly  to  each  other. 

Windekind  talked  with  Oberon  for  a  long  time  in  a  strange 
language,  and  then  beckoned  to  Johannes  to  come  closer. 

"Give  me  your  hand,  Johannes,"  said  the  king.  "Winde- 
kind's  friends  are  mine  also.  Whenever  I  can  I  will  help  you, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  token  of  our  alliance." 

Oberon  released  from  the  chain  about  his  neck  a  little  gold 
key,  and  gave  it  to  Johannes  who  took  it  respectfully  and 
held  it  shut  close  in  his  hand. 

"That  little  key  may  be  your  fortune,"  said  the  king.  "It 
fits  a  golden  chest  which  contains  a  precious  treasure.     Who 


THE    QUEST  17 

holds  that  chest  I  cannot  say,  but  you  must  search  for  it  zeal- 
ously. If  }  ou  remain  good  friends  with  me  and  with  Winde- 
kind  —  steadfast  and  true  —  you  will  surely  succeed."  With 
that,  the  elf-king  inclined  his  beautiful  head,  cordially,  while 
Johannes,  overflowing  with  happiness,  expressed  his  thanks. 

At  this  moment,  three  frogs,  who  were  sitting  together  upon 
a  little  mound  of  damp  moss,  began  to  sing  the  introduction 
to  a  slow  waltz,  and  partners  were  taken  for  the  dance.  Those 
who  did  not  dance  were  lined  along  the  side  walls  by  the 
master  of  ceremonies  —  a  lively,  fussy  little  lizard  —  to  the 
great  vexation  of  the  two  toads  who  complained  that  they 
could  not  see.     Then  the  dancing  began. 

And  it  was  so  comical!  Every  one  danced  in  his  own  way, 
and  fancied,  of  course,  that  he  danced  better  than  any  one 
else.  The  mice  and  frogs  sprang  high  up  on  their  hind  feet, 
and  an  old  rat  whirled  round  so  wildly  that  all  the  dancers 
retreated  before  him.  A  fat  tree-slug  took  a  turn  with  a  mole, 
but  soon  gave  it  up,  under  pretense  that  she  was  taken  with  a 
stitch  in  the  side.  The  real  reason  was  that  she  could  not 
dance  very  well. 

However,  everything  moved  on  seriously  and  ceremoniously. 
It  was  a  matter  of  conscience  with  them,  and  all  looked 
anxiously  toward  the  king  to  find  a  sign  of  approval  upon 
his  countenance.  But  the  king  was  afraid  of  causing  dis- 
content, and  looked  very  sedate.  His  followers  considered 
,it  beneath  them  to  take  part  in  the  dancing. 

Johannes  had  contained  himself  well,  through  all  this 
seriousness,  but  when  he  saw  a  tiny  toad  whirling  around  with 
a  tall  lizard,  who  now  and  then  lifted  the  unhappy  toad  high 
up  off  the  floor  and  described  a  half  circle  with  her  in  the  air, 
he  burst  out  into  a  merry  laugh. 

Then  there  was  consternation.  The  music  stopped  and 
the  king  looked  round  with  a  troubled  air.  The  master  of 
ceremonies  flew  in  full  speed  up  to  the  laugher,  and  urgently 
besought  him  to  conduct  himself  with  more  decorum. 

"Dancing  is  a  serious  matter,"  said  he,  "and  nothing  at  all 


i8  THEOUEST 

to  be  laughed  at.  This  is  a  dignified  company,  who  are 
dancing  not  merely  for  the  fun  of  it.  Every  one  was  doing 
his  best,  and  no  one  wished  to  be  laughed  at.  That  was  very 
rude.  More  than  that,  this  is  a  mourning  feast  —  a  sorrowful 
occasion.  One  should  conduct  himself  respectably  here,  and 
not  behave  as  though  he  were  among  human  beings." 

Johannes  was  frightened  at  that.  Moreover,  he  saw  hos- 
tile looks.  His  familiarity  with  the  king  had  made  him  many 
enemies.     Windekind  led  him  to  one  side. 

"We  would  better  go  away,"  he  whispered.  "You  have 
made  a  mess  of  it  again.  That  is  the  way  when  one  is  brought 
up  among  human  beings." 

Hastily,  they  slipped  out  under  the  bat-wing  portiere,  and 
entered  the  dim  passage.  The  polite  glow-worm  was  waiting 
for  them. 

"Have  you  had  a  good  time?"  he  asked.  "Did  King 
Oberon  speak  with  you?" 

"Oh,  yes.  It  was  a  jolly  festival,"  said  Johannes.  "Do 
you  have  to  stay  here  all  the  time,  in  this  dark  passage  ?" 

"That  is  my  own  choice,"  said  the  glow-worm,  in  a  bitter, 
mournful  voice.     "I  care  no  more  for  vanities." 

"Come,"  said  Windekind,  "you  do  not  mean  that!" 

"It  is  just  as  I  say.  Formerly  —  formerly  there  was  a  time 
when  I,  too,  went  to  feasts,  and  danced,  and  kept  up  with 
such  frivolities;  but  now  I  am  purified  through  suffering, 
now.  .  .  ."  And  he  became  so  agitated  that  his  light  went 
out  again.  Fortunately  they  were  near  the  outlet,  and  the 
rabbit,  hearing  them  coming,  moved  a  little  to  one  side,  so 
that  the  moonlight  shone  in. 

As  soon  as  they  were  outside  by  the  rabbit,  Johannes  said: 
"Will  you  not  tell  us  your  history,  Glow-worm  ?" 

"Alas!"  sighed  the  glow-worm,  "it  is  a  sad  and  simple 
story.     It  will  not  amuse  you." 

"Tell  us!     Tell  us,  all  the  same!"  they  cried. 

"Well,  then,  you  know  that  we  glow-worms  are  very  pe- 
culiar   beings.      Yes,    I     believe    no    one    would    contradict 


THEQUEST  19 

that  we  glow-worms  are  the  most  highly  gifted  of  all  who 
ive. 

"Why?     I  do  not  know  that,"  said  the  rabbit. 

At  this,  the  glow-worm  asked  disdainfully,  "Can  you  give 
light?" 

"No,  indeed,  I  cannot,"  the  rabbit  was  obliged  to  confess. 

"Now  we  give  light  —  all  of  us.  And  we  can  make  it  shine 
or  can  extinguish  it.  Light  is  the  best  gift  of  Nature,  and  to 
make  light  is  the  highest  achievement  of  any  living  being. 
Ought  any  one  then  to  contest  our  precedence  ?  Moreover, 
we  little  fellows  have  wings,  and  can  fly  for  miles." 

"I  cannot  do  that,  either,"  humbly  admitted  the  rabbit. 

"Through  the  divine  gift  of  light  which  we  have,"  con- 
tinued the  glow-worm,  "other  creatures  stand  in  awe  of  us, 
and  no  bird  will  attack  us.  Only  one  animal  —  the  human 
being  —  the  basest  of  all,  chases  us,  and  carries  us  off.  He  is 
the  most  detestable  monster  in  creation!" 

At  this  sally  Johannes  looked  at  Windekind  as  though  he 
did  not  understand.  But  Windekind  smiled,  and  motioned 
to  him  to  be  silent. 

"Once,  I  flew  gaily  around  among  the  shrubs,  like  a  bright 
will-o'-the-wisp.  In  a  moist,  lonely  meadow  on  the  bank  of  a 
ditch  there  lived  one  whose  existence  was  inseparably  linked 
with  my  own  happiness.  She  sparkled  beautifully  in  her 
light  emerald-green  as  she  crept  about  in  the  grass,  and  my 
young  heart  was  enraptured.  I  circled  about  her,  and  did 
my  best,  by  making  my  light  play,  to  attract  her  attention. 
Gratefully,  I  saw  that  she  had  perceived  me,  and  demurely 
extinguished  her  own  light.  Trembling  with  emotion,  I  was 
on  the  point  of  folding  my  wings  and  sinking  down  in  rapture 
beside  my  radiant  loved  one,  when  the  air  was  filled  with  an 
awful  noise.  Dark  figures  approached.  They  were  human 
beings.  In  terror,  I  took  flight.  They  chased  me,  and 
struck  at  me  with  big  black  things.  But  my  wings  went 
faster  than  their  clumsy  legs." 

"When  I  returned — " 


20  THEQUEST 

Here  the  narrator's  voice  failed  him.  After  an  instant  of 
deep  emotion,  during  which  the  three  Hsteners  maintained  a 
respectful  silence,  he  continued: 

"You  may  already  have  surmised  it.  My  tender  bride  — 
the  brightest,  most  gl owning  of  all  —  she  had  disappeared; 
kidnapped  by  cruel  human  beings.  The  still,  dewy  grass- 
plot  was  trampled,  and  her  favorite  place  by  the  ditch  was 
dark  and  deserted.     I  was  alone  in  the  world." 

Here  the  impressionable  rabbit  once  again  pulled  down  an 
ear,  and  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye. 

"Since  that  time  I  have  been  a  different  creature.  I  have 
an  aversion  for  all  idle  pleasures.  I  think  only  of  her  whom 
I  have  lost,  and  of  the  time  when  I  shall  see  her  again." 

"Really!     Do  you  still  hope  to?"  said  the  rabbit,  rejoiced. 

"I  more  than  hope  —  I  am  certain.  In  heaven  I  shall  see 
my  beloved  again." 

"But — "  the  rabbit  objected. 

"Bunnie,"  said  the  glow-worm,  gravely,  "I  can  understand 
that  one  who  was  obliged  to  grope  about  in  the  dark  might 
doubt,  but  when  one  can  see,  with  his  own  eyes!  That  puz- 
zles me.  There!"  said  the  glow-worm,  gazing  reverently  up 
at  the  star-dotted  skies;  "there  I  behold  them  —  all  my  fore- 
fathers, all  my  friends,  and  her,  too,  more  gloriously  radiant 
than  when  here  upon  earth.  Ah,  when  shall  I  be  able  to  rise 
up  out  of  this  lower  life,  and  fly  to  her  who  beckons  me  so 
winsomely  ?     When,  ah,  when?" 

With  a  sigh,  the  glow-worm  turned  away  from  his  listeners 
and  crept  back  again  into  the  dark  passage. 

"Poor  creature!"  said  the  rabbit.     "I  hope  he  is  right." 

"I  hope  so  too,"  added  Johannes. 

"I  have  my  doubts,"  said  Windekind,  "but  it  was  very 
touching." 

"Dear  Windekind,"  began  Johannes,  "I  am  very  tired 
and  sleepy." 

"Then  come  close  to  me,  and  I  will  cover  you  with  my 
mantle." 


THE    GUEST  21 

Windekind  took  oft'  his  little  blue  mantle  and  spread  it  over 
Johannes  and  himself. 

So  they  lay  down  on  the  gentle  slope,  in  the  fragrant  moss, 
with  their  arms  about  each  other's  neck. 

"Your  heads  lie  rather  low,"  said  the  rabbit.  "Will  you 
rest  them  against  me?" 

They  did  so. 

"Good-night,  Mother!"  said  Windekind  to  the  moon. 

Then  Johannes  shut  the  little  gold  key  tight  in  his  hand, 
pressed  his  head  against  the  downy  coat  of  the  good  rabbit, 
and  fell  fast  asleep. 


Ill 

Where  is  he,  Presto  ?  —  Where  is  he  ?  What  a  fright  to  wake 
up  in  the  boat,  among  the  reeds,  all  alone,  the  master  gone 
and  not  a  trace  of  him!     It  is  something  to  be  alarmed  about. 

And  how  long  you  have  been  running,  barking  nervously, 
trying  to  find  him,  poor  Presto!  How  could  you  sleep  so 
soundly  and  not  notice  the  little  master  get  out  of  the  boat  ? 
Otherwise,  you  would  have  wakened  as  soon  as  he  made  the 
least  move. 

You  could  scarcely  find  the  place  where  he  landed,  and  here 
in  the  downs  you  are  all  confused.  That  nervous  sniffing  has 
not  helped  a  bit.  Oh,  despair!  The  master  gone  —  not  a 
sign  of  him.     Find  him.  Presto,  find  him! 

See!  straight  before  you  on  the  hillside.  Is  not  that  a  little 
form  lying  there?     Look!  look! 

For  an  instant  the  little  dog  stood  motionless,  straining  his 
gaze  out  into  the  distance.  Then  suddenly  he  stretched  out 
his  head,  and  raced  —  flew  with  all  the  might  of  his  four 
little  paws  toward  that  dark  spot  on  the  hillside. 

And  when  it  proved  to  be  the  grievously  wanted  little  master, 
he  could  not  find  a  way  to  fully  express  his  joy  and  thankful- 
ness. He  wagged  his  tail,  his  entire  little  body  quivering  with 
joy  —  he  jumped,  yelped,  barked,  and  then  pushed  his  little 
cold  nose  against  the  face  of  his  long-sought  friend,  and  licked 
and  sniffed  all  over  it. 

"Cuddle  down,  Presto,  in  your  basket,"  said  Johannes, 
only  half  awake. 

How  stupid  of  the  master!  There  was  no  basket  there,  as 
any  one  could  see. 

Very,  very  slowly  the  day  began  to  break  in  the  mind  of  the 
little  sleeper. 

Presto's  sniffings  he  was  used  to  —  every  morning.  But 
dream-figures  of  elves  and  moonshine  still  lingered  in  his  soul 

22 


THE    QUEST  23 

as  the  morning  mists  cling  to  the  Landscape.  He  feared  that 
the  chill  breath  of  the  dawn  might  chase  them  away.  "Eyes 
fast  shut,"  thought  he,  "or  I  shall  see  the  clock  and  the  wall- 
paper, just  as  ever." 

But  he  was  not  lying  right.  He  felt  there  was  no  covering 
over  him.  Slowly  and  cautiously  he  opened  his  eyelids  a  very 
little  way. 

Bright  light.     Blue  sky.     Clouds. 

Then  Johannes  opened  his  eyes  wide  and  said:  "Is  it  really 
true  ?" 

Yes,  he  lay  in  the  middle  of  the  dunes.  The  cheerful  sun- 
shine warmed  him,  he  breathed  the  fresh  morning  air,  and  in 
the  distance  a  fine  mist  skirted  the  woods.  He  saw  only  the 
tall  beech  tree  beside  the  pond,  and  the  roof  of  his  house 
rising  above  the  foliage.  Bees  and  beetles  hummed  about 
him;  above  him  sang  the  ascending  skylark;  from  far  away 
came  the  sound  of  barking  dogs,  and  the  rumble  of  the  distant 
town.     It  was  all  as  plain  as  day. 

But  what  had  he  dreamed  and  what  not  ^  Where  was 
Windekind  ?     And  where  was  the  rabbit .? 

He  could  see  neither  of  them.  Only  Presto,  who  sat  up 
against  him  as  close  as  possible,  watching  him  expectantly. 

"Could  I  have  been  sleep-walking?"  murmured  Johannes, 
softly. 

Beside  him  was  a  rabbit-hole.  But  there  were  a  great  many 
such  in  the  dunes.  He  sat  up  straight,  so  as  to  give  it  a  good 
look.     What  was  it  he  felt  in  his  tightly  shut  hand  ? 

A  thrill  ran  through  him  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  his 
feet  as  he  opened  his  hand.  There  lay  a  bright  little  gold 
key. 

For  a  time  he  sat  speechless. 

"  Presto,"  said  he  then,  while  the  tears  sprang  to  his  eyes, 
"Presto,  then  it  is  true!" 

Presto  sprang  up  and  tried,  by  barking,  to  make  it  clear  to 
his  master  that  he  was  hungry  and  wanted  to  go  home. 

To  the   house  ?      Johannes   had    not   thought   of  that,   and 


24  THEOUEST 

cared  little  to  return.  But  soon  he  heard  different  voices  calling 
his  name.  Then  he  began  to  realize  that  his  behavior  would  be 
considered  neither  kind  nor  courteous;  and  that,  for  a  long  time 
to  come,  there  would  be  no  friendly  words  in  store  for  him. 

For  an  instant,  at  the  first  trouble,  his  tears  of  joy  were 
very  nearly  turned  into  those  of  fear  and  regret.  But  when 
he  thought  about  Windekind,  who  now  was  his  friend  —  his 
friend  and  confidant  —  of  the  elf-king's  gift,  and  of  the  glo- 
rious, indisputable  truth  of  all  that  had  occurred,  he  took  his 
way  home,  calm  and  prepared  for  anything. 

But  the  meeting  was  more  difficult  than  he  expected.  He 
had  not  fully  anticipated  the  fear  and  distress  of  the  household 
over  his  absence.  He  was  urged  to  promise  solemnly  that  he 
never  again  would  be  so  naughty  and  imprudent. 

"I  cannot  do  so,"  said  he,  resolutely.  They  were  surprised 
at  that.  He  was  interrogated,  coaxed,  threatened;  but  he 
thought  of  Windekind  and  remained  stubborn.  What  could 
it  matter  if  only  he  held  Windekind's  friendship  —  and  what 
would  he  not  be  willing  to  suffer  for  Windekind's  sake!  He 
pressed  the  little  key  close  to  his  breast,  and  shut  his  lips  to- 
gether, while  he  answered  every  question  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.     "I  cannot  promise,"  said  he,  again. 

But  his  father  said:  "It  is  a  serious  matter  with  him  —  we 
will  let  him  be,  now.  Something  unusual  must  have  happened. 
Sometime,  he  will  tell  us  about  it." 

Johannes  smiled,  silently  ate  his  bread  and  butter,  and  then 
slipped  away  to  his  little  bedroom.  There,  he  snipped  off  a 
bit  of  the  curtain  cord,  strung  his  precious  key  upon  it,  and 
hung  it  around  his  neck,  on  his  bare  breast.  Then,  com- 
forted, he  went  to  school. 

It  went  very  badly  that  day  at  school.  He  knew  none  of  his 
lessons,  and  paid  absolutely  no  attention.  His  thoughts  flew 
continually  to  the  pond,  and  to  the  marvelous  happenings  of 
the  evening  before.  He  could  scarcely  believe  that  a  friend 
of  the  elf-king  could  again  be  obliged  to  figure  sums,  and  con- 
jugate verbs. 


THEQUEST  25 

But  it  had  all  truly  been,  and  not  one  of  those  around  him 
knew  anything  about  it.  No  one  could  believe  or  understand 
—  not  even  the  master  —  no  matter  how  fierce  he  looked,  nor 
how  scornfully  he  called  Johannes  a  lazy  dog.  He  endured 
the  angry  comments  with  resignation  and  performed  the  tasks 
which  his  absent-mindedness  brought  upon  him. 

"They  have  not  the  least  idea  of  it.  They  may  rail  at  me 
as  much  as  they  please.  I  shall  remain  Windekind's  friend, 
and  Windekind  is  worth  more  to  me  than  all  of  them  put  to- 
gether; yes,  master  and  all." 

That  was  not  respectful  of  Johannes.  But  after  all  the 
hard  things  he  had  heard  about  them  the  evening  before,  his 
esteem  for  his  fellow-creatures  had  not  been  increased. 

More  than  that,  he  was  not  sensible  enough  to  put  his  wis- 
dom to  the  best  use;  or,  rather,  to  keep  silent. 

When  his  master  stated  that  human  beings  only  were  gifted 
by  God  with  reasoning  powers,  and  were  placed  as  rulers  over 
all  the  other  animals,  he  began  to  laugh.  That  cost  him  a 
bad  mark,  and  a  severe  rebuke.  And  when  his  seat-mate 
read  aloud  from  his  exercise-book  the  following  sentence: 
"The  sun  is  very  old  —  she  is  older  than  my  cross  old  aunt," 
Johannes  instantly  cried  out,  "He  is  older!" 

Everybody  laughed  at  him,  and  the  master,  astonished  at 
such  amazing  stupidity,  as  he  called  it,  made  Johannes  remain 
after  school  to  write  out  this  sentence  a  hundred  times:  "The 
age  of  my  aunt  is  very  great,  the  age  of  the  sun  is  greater;  but 
the  greatest  thing  of  all  is  my  amazing  stupidity." 

His  schoolmates  had  all  disappeared,  and  Johannes  sat 
alone  writing  in  the  great  school-room.  The  sun  shone  gaily 
in,  lighting  up  a  thousand  motes  on  the  way,  and  forming  on 
the  white-washed  walls  great  splashes  of  light  which,  with  the 
passing  hours,  crept  slowly  forward.  The  teacher  had  gone 
away,  and  shut  the  door  behind  him  with  a  bang.  Johannes 
was  already  on  the  fifty-second  "age  of  my  aunt,"  when  a 
nimble  little  mouse,  with  silky  ears,  and  little  black  beads  of 
eyes,  came  out  of  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room  and   ran 


26  THEQUEST 

without  a  sound  along  by  the  wall.  Johannes  kept  as  still  as 
death,  not  to  frighten  away  the  pretty  creature.  It  was  not 
afraid,  and  came  up  close  to  where  he  was  sitting.  Then, 
peering  round  a  moment  with  its  bright  keen  little  eyes,  it 
sprang  lightly  up  —  one  jump  to  the  bench,  the  second  to  the 
desk  on  which  Johannes  was  writing. 

"Hey!"  said  he,  half  to  himself,  "but  you  are  a  plucky  little 
mouse!" 

"I  do  not  know  whom  I  should  be  afraid  of,"  said  a  mite  of 
a  voice;  and  the  mouse  showed  his  little  teeth  as  if  he  were 
laughing. 

Johannes  had  already  become  used  to  many  wonderful 
things,  but  this  made  him  open  his  eyes  wide.  In  the  middle 
of  the  day,  and  in  school!     It  was  past  all  belief. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me,"  said  he,  softly  —  for  fear 
of  startling  the  mouse.     "Have  you  come  from  Windekind  ?" 

"I  came  just  to  say  to  you  that  the  teacher  is  quite  right, 
and  that  you  roundly  deserved  your  punishment." 

"But  Windekind  said  that  the  sun  was  our  father." 

"Yes,  but  it  was  not  necessary  to  let  anybody  else  know  it. 
What  have  human  beings  to  do  with  it  ?  You  must  never 
speak  of  such  delicate  matters  to  them  —  they  are  too  coarse. 
A  human  being  is  an  astonishingly  cruel  and  clumsy  creature, 
Vv'ho  would  prefer  to  seize  and  trample  to  death  whatever  came 
within  his  reach.     We  mice  have  had  experience  of  that." 

"  But,  Mousie,  why  do  you  stay  in  this  neighborhood .? 
Why  do  you  not  go  far  away  —  to  the  woods  ?" 

"Alas!  we  cannot  do  that  now.  We  are  too  much  accus- 
tomed to  town  food.  Provided  one  is  prudent  and  always 
takes  care  to  avoid  their  traps  and  their  heavy  feet,  it  becomes 
possible  to  endure  human  beings.  Fortunately,  we  still 
retain  our  nimbleness.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  human  beings 
help  out  their  own  clumsiness  by  covenanting  with  the  cat. 
That  is  a  great  calamity,  but  in  the  woods  there  are  owls  and 
hawks,  and  we  should  all  certainly  perish  there.  Now, 
Johannes,  remember  my  advice.     There  comes  the  teacher!" 

"  Mousie,  Mousie!     Do  not  go  away!     Ask  Windekind  what 


THE    GUEST  27 

I  must  do  with  my  key,  I  have  hung  it  around  my  neck,  on 
my  bare  breast.  But  Saturday  I  have  to  take  a  bath,  and  I 
am  so  afraid  somebody  will  see  it.  Tell  mc,  Mousie  dear, 
where  I  can  safely  hide  it." 

"In  the  ground  —  always  in  the  ground.  Everything  is 
safest  there.     Shall  I  take,  and  keep  it?" 

"No,  not  here,  at  school!" 

"Bury  it  then,  out  in  the  dunes.  I  will  tell  my  cousin,  the 
field-mouse,  that  he  must  keep  watch  of  it." 

"Thank  you,  Mousie." 

Tramp!  tramp!  The  master  was  coming.  In  the  time  it 
took  Johannes  to  dip  his  pen,  the  mouse  had  disappeared. 
The  master  himself,  who  was  impatient  to  go  home,  excused 
Johannes  from  the  forty-eight  remaining  lines. 

For  two  long  days  Johannes  lived  in  constant  fear.  He 
was  closely  watched,  and  no  opportunity  was  allowed  him  for 
escaping  to  the  dunes.  Friday  came,  and  he  was  still  carrying 
around  that  precious  key.  The  following  evening  he  must 
take  his  weekly  bath;  the  key  would  be  discovered  and  taken 
away  from  him.  He  grew  stiff  with  fear  at  the  thought  of  it. 
He  dared  not  hide  it  in  the  house  —  nor  in  the  garden  —  no 
place  seemed  to  him  safe  enough. 

It  was  Friday  afternoon  and  the  twilight  began  to  fall. 
Johannes  sat  before  his  bedroom  window,  looking  wistfully 
out  over  the  green  shrubs  of  the  garden  to  the  distant  dunes. 

"Windekind,Windekind,helpme!"  he  whispered, anxiously. 

There  was  a  gentle  rustling  of  wings  near  him,  then  came 
the  fragrance  of  lilies-of-the-valley,  and  suddenly  he  heard 
the  sweet,  familiar  voice. 

Windekind  sat  near  him  on  the  window-seat,  making  the 
little  lily-bells  swing  on  their  slender  stalk. 

"At  last!  Have  you  come?  I  have  longed  for  you  so!" 
said  Johannes. 

"Come  with  me,  Johannes;  we  will  go  and  bury  your  key." 

"I  cannot,"  said    Johannes,  with  a  sigh. 

But  Windekind  took  him  by  the  hand,  and,  light  as  the 


28  THEQUEST 

feathery  seed  of  a  dandelion,  he  was  drifting  away  through 
the  still  evening  air. 

"Windekind,"  said  Johannes  as  they  went,  "I  think  so 
much  of  you!  I  believe  I  would  willingly  give  up  every  human 
being  for  you.     Presto,  even." 

"And  Simon?"  said  Windekind. 

"Oh,  it  cannot  make  much  difference  to  Simon  whether  I 
like  him  or  not.  He  thinks  such  things  childish,  I  believe. 
Simon  cares  only  for  the  fishwoman;  and  not  even  for  her,  save 
when  he  is  hungry.  Do  you  believe,  Windekind,  that  Simon 
is  an  ordinary  cat  ?" 

"No!     He  has  been  a  human  being." 

Buz-z-z-z!     Just  then  a  big  May-bug  flew  against  Johannes. 

"Cannot  you  look  out  for  yourself  better  than  that.^" 
grumbled  the  May-bug.  "H'm!  You  elfin  baggage!  You 
fly  as  if  you  owned  all  the  air  there  was.  You  have  learned 
that  from  the  do-nothings  who  only  just  fly  round  and  round 
for  their  own  pleasure.  One  who  always  does  his  duty,  like 
me  —  who  always  seeks  food,  and  eats  as  hard  as  he  can,  is 
put  out  by  such  actions."     And  away  he  flew,  buzzing  loudly. 

"Is  he  vexed  because  we  are  not  eating  anything .''"  asked 
Johannes. 

"Yes,  that  is  May-bug  fashion.  Among  the  May-bugs  it 
is  considered  the  highest  duty  to  eat  a  great  deal.  Shall  I  tell 
you  the  story  of  a  young  May-bug  ?" 

"Yes,  do,  Windekind." 

"He  was  a  fine,  young  May-bug  who  had  only  just  crept  out 
of  the  sod.  What  a  surprise  it  was  !  For  four  long  years  he 
had  been  under  the  dark  ground,  waiting  for  the  first  warm 
evening.  When  he  got  his  head  up  out  of  the  clods  and  saw 
all  that  foliage,  and  the  waving  grass,  and  the  singing  birds, 
he  was  greatly  perplexed.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He 
touched  the  near-by  grass  blades  all  over  with  his  feelers, 
thrusting  them  out  in  fan  shape.  From  this  he  perceived, 
Johannes,  that  he  was  a  male.  He  was  very  handsome  in  his 
way  —  with  shining  black  legs,  a  plump,  powdered  after-part. 


THEQUEST  29 

and  a  breastplate  that  gleamed  like  a  mirror.  Happily, 
he  soon  discovered,  not  far  away,  another  May-bug  —  not 
quite  so  handsome,  but  who  had  flown  out  a  full  day  earlier 
and  thus  was  of  age.  Quite  modestly,  because  he  was  still  so 
young,  he  hailed  this  other  one. 

"'What  do  you  want,  little  friend?'  said  the  second  one 
condescendingly,  observing  that  it  was  a  novice :  '  Do  you 
want  to  inquire  the  way?' 

"*No,  but  you  see,'  said  the  younger,  politely,  'I  do  not 
know  what  I  ought  to  be  doing  here.  What  does  one  do  when 
he  is  a  May-bug?' 

"'Indeed,'  said  the  other,  'do  you  not  know  that?  Well, 
that  is  excusable.  Once  /  did  not  know.  Listen,  and  I  will 
tell  you.  The  chief  concern  of  a  May-bug's  life  is  to  eat. 
Not  far  from  this  is  a  delicious  linden  hedge  that  was  put 
there  for  us  to  eat  from  as  busily  as  possible.' 

"'Who  planted  the  linden  hedge  there?'  asked  the  young 
beetle. 

'"Well,  a  great  creature  who  means  well  by  us.  Every 
morning  he  comes  along  the  hedge,  picks  out  those  that  have 
eaten  the  most,  and  takes  them  with  him  to  a  splendid  house 
where  a  bright  light  shines,  and  where  all  the  May-bugs  are 
very  happy  together.  But  those  who  keep  flying  about  the 
whole  night  instead  of  eating  are  caught  by  the  bat.' 

'"Who  is  that?'  asked  the  novice. 

"*A  fearful  monster  with  sharp  teeth,  that  all  of  a  sudden 
comes  flying  after  us,  and  crunches  us  up  with  a  horrible 
crack.'  As  the  beetle  said  this,  they  heard  above  them  a 
shrill  squeaking  which  pierced  through  to  the  marrow.  'Hey! 
There  he  is!'  exclaimed  the  older  one.  'Look  out  for  him, 
my  young  friend.  Be  thankful  that  I  have  warned  you  in 
good  time.  You  have  a  long  night  before  you  —  make  the 
best  of  it.  The  less  you  eat  the  greater  the  chance  of  your 
being  devoured  by  the  bat.  Only  those  who  choose  a  serious 
calling  in  life  can  enter  the  great  house  with  the  bright  lisht. 
Bear  that  in  mind!     A  serious  calling;!' 


30  THEQUEST 

"Then  the  beetle,  who  was  a  whole  day  the  older,  scrabbled 
away  among  the  blades  of  grass,  leaving  the  other  behind, 
greatly  impressed.  Do  you  understand  what  a  calling  is, 
Johannes  ?  No  ?  Well,  neither  did  the  young  beetle  know. 
It  had  something  to  do  with  eating,  he  knew,  but  how  was  he 
to  get  to  the  linden  hedge  ? 

"Close  beside  him  stood  a  slim,  strong  grass-stem  swaying 
gently  in  the  evening  wind.  He  grasped  it,  and  hugged  it 
tightly  with  his  six  little  crooked  feet.  It  seemed  as  tall  as  a 
giant  viewed  from  below,  and  fearfully  steep.  But  the  May- 
bug  was  determined  to  reach  the  very  tip  of  it. 

"'This  is  a  calling,'  he  thought,  and  he  began  to  climb, 
pluckily.  It  was  slow  work  —  he  often  slipped  back;  but  still 
he  made  progress,  and  at  last,  when  he  had  climbed  to  the 
tip-top  and  was  swinging  and  swaying  there,  he  felt  content 
and  happy.  What  a  view!  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  over- 
looked the  world.  How  blissful  it  was  to  be  surrounded,  on 
all  sides,  by  the  air!  He  breathed  it  in  eagerly.  How  mar- 
velously  it  cheered  him  up!     He  would  go  still  higher! 

"In  ecstasy  he  lifted  up  his  shields,  and  made  his  filmy  wings 
quiver.  Higher  he  would  go!  Higher!  Again  he  fluttered 
his  wings  —  his  feet  let  loose  the  grass-stem,  and  —  oh,  joy!  — 
He  was  flying,  free  and  clear,  in  the  still,  warm  evening  air!" 

"And  then?"  asked  Johannes. 

"The  continuation  is  not  cheerful.  I  will  tell  it  you  a 
little   later." 

They  had  flown  away  over  the  pond.  A  pair  of  belated 
white  butterflies  fluttered  along  with  them. 

"Where  are  you  going,  elves  ?"  they  asked. 

"To  the  big  wild-rose  that  blossoms  on  yonder  hill." 

"We  will  go,  too!     We  will  go,  too!" 

In  the  distance,  the  rose-bush  with  its  many  pale-yellow 
satiny  flowers  was  already  visible.  The  buds  were  red,  and 
the  open  roses  showed  little  stripes  of  the  same  color,  in  token 
of  the  time  when  they  still  were  buds. 

In  solitary  calm,  this  sweet  wild-rose  bloomed,  and  filled 


THEQUEST  31 

the  region  with  its  marvelous  fragrance.  So  delicious  is  this 
that  the  dune-elves  live  upon  it  alone. 

The  butterflies  fluttered  up  to  it,  and  kissed  flower  after 
flower. 

"We  come  to  entrust  a  treasure  to  you,"  said  Windekind. 
"Will  you  take  care  of  it  for  us  ?" 

"Why  not.''  why  not?"  whispered  the  wild-rose.  "Watch- 
ing does  not  tire  me,  and  I  do  not  think  to  go  away  from  here, 
if  no  one  carries  me  off.     And  I  have  sharp  thorns." 

Then  came  the  field-mouse  —  the  cousin  of  the  mouse  at  the 
school.  He  dug  a  passage  under  the  roots  of  the  rose-bush, 
and  pulled  in  the  little  key. 

"If  you  want  it  back  again,  you  must  call  on  me.  And 
then  the  rose  need  not  be  harmed." 

The  rose  interlocked  its  thorny  twigs  close  over  the  entrance, 
and  took  a  solemn  oath  to  guard  the  trust.  The  butterflies 
were  witnesses. 

The  next  morning,  Johannes  woke  up  in  his  own  little  bed, 
with  Presto,  the  clock,  and  the  wall-hangings.  The  cord 
around  his  neck,  and  the  little  key  upon  it,  had  disappeared. 


IV 

"Oh,  boys,  boys!  How  dreadfully  tedious  it  is  in  summer!" 
sighed  one  of  the  three  big  stoves  which  stood  together,  fretting, 
in  a  dark  corner  of  the  garret  in  the  old  house,  "For  weeks  I 
have  not  seen  a  living  soul  nor  heard  a  sensible  word.  And 
that  emptiness  within.     It  is  horrible!" 

"I  am  full  of  spider-webs,"  said  the  other.  "In  winter 
that  would  not  happen." 

"And  I  am  so  dusty  that  I  shall  be  shamed  to  death  next 
winter  when  the  black  man  appears,  as  Van  Alphen  says." 
This  bit  of  learning  the  third  stove  had  gotten,  of  course,  from 
Johannes,  as  he  sat  before  the  hearth  winters,  reciting  verses. 

"You  must  not  speak  so  disrespectfully  of  the  Smith," said 
the  first  stove  —  which  was  the  eldest.     "It  pains  me." 

And  a  number  of  shovels  and  tongs  also,  which  lay  here  and 
there  on  the  floor,  wrapped  in  paper  to  keep  them  from  rusting, 
expressed  freely  their  indignation  at  the  frivolous  remark. 

Suddenly,  they  all  stopped  talking;  for  the  trap-door  was 
lifted,  a  ray  of  light  darted  to  the  far  corner,  exposing  the 
entire  dusty  company,  to  their  surprise  and  confusion. 

It  was  Johannes  whose  coming  had  disturbed  their  talk. 
He  had  always  enjoyed  a  visit  to  the  garret;  and  now,  after  all 
the  recent  happenings,  he  often  went  there  to  find  quiet  and 
seclusion.  There,  too,  closed  with  a  shutter  was  a  window, 
which  looked  out  over  the  hillside.  It  was  a  keen  delight  to 
open  that  shutter  suddenly,  and  after  the  mysterious  gloom  of 
the  garret,  to  see  before  him  all  at  once  the  wide-spread,  clearly 
lighted  landscape,  framed  by  the  gently  undulating  lines  of 
the  hills. 

Three  weeks  had  passed  away  since  that  Friday  evening,  and 
Johannes  had  not  seen  nor  heard  anything  of  his  friend.  His 
little  key  was  now  gone,  and  there  was  nothing  to  prove  to  him 
that  he  had  not  been  dreaming.     Often,  he  could  not  reason 

3^ 


THEQUEST  33 

away  the  fear  that  all  had  been  only  imagination.  He  kept 
his  own  counsel,  and  his  father  remarked  with  anxiety  that 
Johannes,  since  that  night  in  the  dunes,  had  certainly  been 
ill.     Johannes,  however,  was  only  longing  for  Windekind. 

"Ought  not  he  to  care  as  much  for  me  as  I  do  for  him  .?" 
he  mused,  while  he  leaned  against  the  garret  window  and 
gazed  out  over  the  verdant,  flowery  garden.  "And  why  does 
he  not  come  oftener,  and  stay  longer?  If/  could!  .  .  .  But 
perhaps  he  has  other  friends,  and  cares  more  for  them  than 
for  me  ?  I  have  no  other  friend  —  not  one.  I  care  only  for 
him  —  so  much,  oh,  so  much!" 

Then  he  saw  defined  against  the  deep  blue  sky  a  flock  of  six 
white  doves  which  wheeled  with  flapping  wings  above  the 
house.  It  seemed  as  if  one  thought  impelled  them,  so  swiftly 
and  simultaneously,  again  and  again,  they  altered  their  direc- 
tion, as  if  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the  sea  of  sunlight  in  which  they 
were  circling. 

All  at  once  they  flew  toward  Johannes'  little  attic-window, 
and,  with  much  fluttering  and  flapping  of  wings,  alighted  on 
the  gutter.  There  they  cooed,  and  bustled  back  and  forth, 
with  little,  mincing  steps.  One  of  them  had  a  little  red 
feather  in  his  wing.  He  tugged  and  pulled  at  it  until  he  held 
it  in  his  beak.  Then  he  flew  up  to  Johannes  and  gave  it  to 
him. 

Johannes  had  scarcely  taken  it  when  he  felt  that  he  had 
become  as  light  and  fleet  as  one  of  the  doves.  He  stretched 
himself  out,  up  flew  the  flock  of  doves,  and  Johannes  soared 
in  their  midst,  through  the  free,  open  air  and  the  clear  sun- 
shine. Nothing  was  around  him  but  the  pure  blue,  and  the 
bright  gleaming  of  the  white  dove-wings. 

They  flew  over  the  garden  toward  the  woods,  whose  tree- 
tops  were  waving  in  the  distance  like  the  swell  of  a  green  sea. 
Johannes  looked  down  below,  and  saw  his  father  sitting  at  the 
open  window  of  the  living-room.  Simon  sat  on  the  window- 
sill,  his  forepaws  folded,  basking  in  the  sunshine.  "Can 
they  see  me  f "  he  thought;  but  he  did  not  dare  call  to  them. 


34  THEQUEST 

Presto  was  tearing  through  the  garden  paths,  sniffing  about 
every  shrub,  behind  every  wall,  and  scratching  against  the 
door  of  every  hot-house  or  out-building,  trying  to  find  his 
master. 

"Presto!  Presto!"  cried  Johannes,  The  dog  looked  up, 
and  began  to  wag  his  tail  and  whimper,  plaintively. 

"I  am  coming  back,  Presto.  Watch!"  cried  Johannes, 
but  he  was  too  far  away. 

They  swept  over  the  woods,  and  the  crows  flew  croaking 
out  of  the  high  tree-tops  where  their  nests  were.  It  was  mid- 
summer, and  the  odor  of  the  blossoming  lindens  streamed  up 
from  the  green  woods  below  them. 

In  an  empty  nest  at  the  top  of  a  tall  linden  tree  sat  Winde- 
kind  with  the  wreath  of  wind-flowers  upon  his  head.  He 
nodded  to  Johannes. 

"Is  that  you?  That  is  good,"  said  he.  "I  sent  for  you. 
Now  we  can  stay  together  a  long  while  —  if  you  would  like  to." 

"Indeed,  I  would  like  to,"  said  Johannes. 

Then  he  thanked  the  kind  doves  who  had  brought  him 
thither,  and  dropped  down  with  Windekind  into  the  woods. 

It  was  cool  and  shady  there.  The  golden  thrush  was 
fluting  his  strain  —  nearly  always  the  very  same,  but  yet  a 
little  different. 

"Poor  bird!"  said  Windekind.  "He  was  once  a  bird-of- 
paradise.  That  you  can  still  see  by  his  strange,  yellow  feathers; 
but  he  was  given  another  covering  and  expelled  from  Paradise. 
There  is  a  word  which  can  bring  back  again  his  former  glorious 
covering,  and  restore  him  to  Paradise,  but  he  has  forgotten  it. 
Day  after  day  he  tries  to  find  that  word.  He  sings  something 
like  it,  but  it  is  not  the  right  word." 

Countless  flies  were  glistening  like  floating  crystals  in  the 
sunbeams  that  fell  through  the  dark  foliage.  Listening 
acutely,  one  could  hear  their  buzzing  like  a  great,  monotonous 
concert,  filling  the  entire  forest.  It  was  as  if  the  sunbeams 
sang. 

Thick,  dark-green  moss  covered  the  ground,  and  Johannes 


THEQUEST  35 

had  become  so  small  again  that  it  appeared  to  him  like  a  new- 
grown  woods  at  the  bottom  of  the  great  forest.  What  elegant 
little  stems  and  how  closely  they  grew!  It  was  difficult  to  pass 
between  them,  and  the  moss-woods  seemed  dreadfully  large. 

Then  they  came  upon  an  ant-path.  Hundreds  of  ants  ran 
busily  to  and  fro,  some  carrying  bits  of  wood,  little  leaves,  or 
blades  of  grass  in  their  jaws.  There  was  such  a  tumult  that  it 
almost  made  Johannes  dizzy.  They  were  all  so  busy  it  was  a 
long  time  before  one  of  the  ants  would  stop  to  speak  with  them. 
At  last  they  found  an  old  ant  who  had  been  stationed  to  keep 
watch  over  the  small  plant-lice  from  which  the  ants  draw  their 
honey-dew.  Since  his  small  herd  was  quiet  he  could  devote  a 
little  time  to  the  strangers,  and  show  them  the  great  nest.  It 
was  situated  at  the  foot  of  an  old  tree-trunk,  was  very  large, 
and  had  hundreds  of  entrances  and  little  chambers.  The 
plant-louse  herder  gave  explanations,  and  led  the  visitors 
around  everywhere,  till  they  came  to  the  cells  of  the  young, 
where  the  larvae  crept  out  of  their  white  cocoons.  Johannes 
was  amazed  and  delighted. 

The  old  ant  said  that  they  were  living  under  great  stress  on 
account  of  the  military  campaign  which  was  about  to  be 
executed.  They  were  going,  with  a  huge  force,  to  attack 
another  ant  colony  not  far  away;  to  destroy  the  nest,  and  to 
steal  or  kill  the  larvae.  To  accomplish  this,  they  would  need 
all  the  help  possible,  and  thus  they  must  first  settle  the  most 
urgent  affairs. 

"What  is  the  reason  for  this  military  expedition?"  asked 
Johannes.     "It  does  not  seem  nice." 

"Indeed,"  said  the  herder,  "it  is  a  very  fine  and  praise- 
worthy enterprise!  You  must  know  that  it  is  the  Fighting- 
Ants  we  are  going  to  attack.  We  are  going  to  extirpate  their 
species,  and  that  is  a  very  good  deed." 

"Are  not  you  Fighting-Ants,  then  ?" 

"Certainly  not!  What  makes  you  think  so?  We  are 
Peace-Ants." 

"Then  what  does  that  mean  ?" 


36  THEOUEST 

"  Do  you  not  know  ?  I  will  explain.  Once,  all  the  ants 
were  continually  fighting  —  not  a  day  passed  without  great 
slaughter.  Then  there  came  a  good,  wise  ant  who  thought  it 
would  save  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if  all  the  ants  would  agree 
to  fight  no  more. 

"When  he  said  that,  they  all  found  it  very  strange;  and  what 
did  they  do  but  begin  to  bite  him  into  pieces.  Later,  came 
still  other  ants  who  were  of  the  very  same  opinion.  These 
also  were  bitten  into  mince-meat.  But  so  many  of  them  kept 
coming  that  the  biting-up  became  too  much  work  for  the 
others. 

"Then  they  named  themselves  Peace-Ants,  and  all  agreed 
that  the  first  Peace-Ant  was  right.  Whoever  dissented  was, 
in  his  turn,  bitten  up.  Thus,  nearly  all  the  ants  nowadays 
have  become  Peace-Ants,  and  the  remnants  of  the  first  Peace- 
Ant  have  been  preserved  with  great  care  and  respect.  We 
have  the  head  —  the  authentic  head.  We  have  laid  waste 
twelve  other  colonies,  and  have  murdered  the  ants  who  pre- 
tended to  have  the  genuine  head.  Now,  there  are  only  four 
such  colonies  left.  They  call  themselves  Peace-Ants,  but 
they  are  really  Fighting-Ants;  because,  you  see,  we  have  the 
true  head,  and  the  Peace-Ant  had  but  one  head.  We  are 
going,  one  of  these  days,  to  stamp  out  the  thirteenth  colony. 
You  see  now,  that  this  is  a  good  work." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Johannes,  "it  is  very  .   .    .  remarkable." 

Peally  he  had  become  a  little  afraid,  and  felt  more  com- 
fortable when  they  had  taken  their  leave  of  the  obliging  herder 
and,  far  away  from  the  ant  colony,  were  resting  awhile  on  a 
swaying  grass-blade,  in  the  shadow  of  a  graceful  fern-leaf. 

"Whoo!"  sighed  Johannes,  "that  was  a  stupid,  blood- 
thirsty set." 

Windekind  laughed,  and  swung  up  and  down  on  his  grass- 
blade. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "you  must  not  call  them  stupid.  Human 
beings  go  to  the  ants  to  learn  wisdom  from  them." 

Thus  Windekind  showed  Johannes  all  the  wonders  of  the 


THEQUEST  37 

woods.  They  flew  together  to  the  birds  in  the  tree-tops,  and 
in  the  close  hedges;  went  down  into  the  clever  little  dwellings 
of  the  moles,  and  saw  the  bees'  nest  in  the  old  tree-trunk. 

Finally,  they  came  to  an  open  place  surrounded  with  under- 
growth. The  honeysuckle  grew  there  in  great  abundance. 
It  twined  its  wanton  tendrils  over  all  the  shrubs,  and  its  fra- 
grant garlands  adorned  the  luxuriant  foliage.  A  flock  of 
tomtits  hopped  and  fluttered  among  the  leaves,  and  chirped 
and  chattered  clamorously. 

"Let  us  stay  a  little  longer,"  said  Johannes.  "It  is  delight- 
ful here." 

"Good,"  said  Windekind.  "Then  you  will  see  some  more 
comical  things." 

Little  blue-bells  were  growing  in  the  grass.  Johannes  went 
up  to  one  of  them,  and  began  to  chat  about  the  bees  and  the 
butterflies.  These  were  good  friends  of  the  blue-bell,  and  so 
the  conversation  flowed  smoothly  on.  . 

What  was  that  ?  A  great  shadow  passed  over  the  grass, 
and  something  like  a  white  cloud  descended  upon  the  blue- 
bell. Johannes  scarcely  had  time  to  get  out  of  the  way.  He 
flew  to  Windekind,  who  was  sitting  high  up  in  a  honeysuckle. 
From  thence  he  saw  that  the  white  cloud  was  a  handkerchief, 
and  just  then  a  portly  woman  sat  down  hard  upon  the 
handkerchief,  and  upon  the  poor  little  blue-bell  that  was 
under  it. 

He  had  not  time  to  lament,  for  the  sound  of  voices  and  of 
cracking  branches  filled  the  open  place,  and  a  crowd  of  people 
approached. 

"  Now  we  are  going  to  have  a  laugh,"  said  Windekind. 

There  they  came  —  human  beings.  The  women  with  bas- 
kets and  umbrellas  in  hand ;  the  men  with  high,  stiff  black 
hats  on.  Almost  all  the  men  were  very,  very  black.  In  the 
sunny,  green  forest,  they  looked  like  great,  ugly  ink  spots  on 
a  splendid  picture. 

Bushes  were  thrust  rudely  aside,  and  flowers  were 
trampled  under  foot.     Many  more  white  handkerchiefs  were 


38  THEQUEST 

spread  over  the  meek  grass;  and  the  patient  mosses,  sighing, 
yielded  to  the  weight  that  bore  them  down,  and  feared  never 
to  recover  from  the  shock. 

The  smoke  of  cigars  curled  up  over  the  honeysuckle  vines, 
spitefully  driving  away  the  delicate  fragrance  of  their  flowers ; 
and  loud  voices  scattered  the  merry  tomtits,  that,  chirping 
their  fright  and  indignation,  sought  refuge  in  the  nearest  trees. 

One  man  rose  up  from  the  crowd,  and  went  to  stand  on  a 
little  mound.  He  had  long,  light  hair,  and  a  pale  face.  He 
said  something,  and  then  all  the  people  opened  their  mouths 
frightfully  wide  and  began  to  sing  so  hard  that  the  crows  flew 
up,  croaking,  from  their  high  nests,  and  the  inquisitive  rabbits 
that  had  come  to  the  edge  of  the  glade,  just  to  look  on,  took 
fright  and  started  on  a  run,  and  kept  it  up  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
after  they  were  safe  again  in  the  dunes. 

Windekind  laughed,  and  whisked  away  the  cigar  smoke 
with  a  fern-leaf.  The  tears  came  into  Johannes'  eyes,  but  not 
from  the  smoke. 

"Windekind,"  said  he,  "I  want  to  go  away  —  it  is  so  ugly 
and  horrid  here." 

"No,  we  must  stay  a  while  longer.  You  will  laugh;  it  is 
going  to  be  still  more  comical." 

The  singing  was  over,  and  the  pale  man  began  to  speak. 
He  shouted,  so  that  all  could  hear,  but  what  he  said  sounded 
very  kind.  He  called  the  people  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
spoke  of  glorious  nature,  and  the  wonders  of  creation,  of  God's 
sunshine  and  of  the  dear  birds  and  flowers.  .  .  . 

"What  is  that  ?"  asked  Johannes,  "Why  does  he  speak  of 
those  things  ?     Does  he  know  you  .''     Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

Windekind  shook  his  garlanded  head  disdainfully. 

"He  does  not  know  me;  still  less  the  sun,  the  birds,  the 
flowers.     Everything  he  says  is  false." 

The  people  all  listened  very  attentively.  The  fat  woman 
who  was  sitting  on  the  blue-bell  began  several  times  to  cry, 
and  wiped  away  her  tears  with  her  skirt,  because  she  had  not 
the  use  of  her  handkerchief. 


THEQUEST  "39 

The  pale  man  said  that  God  had  caused  the  sun  to  shine  so 
brightly  for  the  sake  of  their  meeting.  Then  Windekind 
laughed  and,  out  of  the  thick  foliage,  threw  an  acorn  at  his 
nose. 

"  He  shall  find  it  otherwise,"  said  he.  "  My  father  shine 
for  him  !      How  conceited  !  " 

But  the  pale  man  was  too  full  of  enthusiasm  to  mind  the 
acorn,  which  appeared  to  have  fallen  out  of  the  sky.  He 
spoke  a  long  time,  and  the  longer  the  louder.  At  last  he  grew 
purple  in  the  face,  clenched  his  fists,  and  shouted  so  loud  that 
the  leaves  trembled  and  the  grasses  waved  hither  and  thither 
in  astonishment.  When  at  last  he  calmed  down,  they  all 
began  to  sing  again. 

"Fie!"  said  a  blackbird,  who  had  heard  the  uproar  from 
the  top  of  a  high  tree.  "  What  a  frightful  racket  !  I  would 
rather  the  cows  came  into  the  woods.  Just  hear  that !  For 
shame !  " 

Now,  the  blackbird  is  a  critic,  and  has  fine  taste. 

After  the  singing,  the  people  brought  all  sorts  of  eatables 
from  baskets,  boxes,  and  bags.  They  spread  out  papers,  and 
distributed  rolls  and  oranges.  Bottles  and  glasses,  too,  came 
to  light. 

Then  Windekind  called  his  allies  together,  and  the  siege  of 
the  feasting  company  began. 

A  gallant  frog  jumped  into  the  lap  of  an  old  lady,  close 
beside  the  bread  she  was  just  about  to  eat,  and  remained 
sitting  there,  astonished  at  his  own  daring.  The  lady  gave  a 
horrible  shriek,  and  stared  at  the  intruder  in  amazement, 
without  daring  to  stir.  This  mettlesome  example  found 
imitators.  Green  caterpillars  crept  valiantly  over  hats,  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  rolls,  awakening  fright  and  dismay.  Big,  fat 
spiders  let  th-emselves  down  glistening  threads  into  the  beer 
glasses,  and  upon  heads  or  necks,  and  a  loud,  continual  scream- 
ing accompanied  their  attack.  Innumerable  small  flies  as- 
sailed the  people  straight  in  the  face,  offering  their  lives  for 
the  good  of  the  cause  by  tumbling  into  the  food  and  drink, 


40  THEQUEST 

and,  with  tlieir  bodies,  making  it  unfit  for  use.  Finally,  came 
multitudes  of  ants,  a  hundred  at  a  time,  and  nipped  the  enemy 
in  the  most  unexpected  places.  Men  and  women  sprang  up 
hurriedly  from  the  long-crushed  moss  and  grass;  and  the  blue- 
bell was  liberated  through  the  well-aimed  attack  of  two  ear- 
wigs upon  the  ankles  of  the  plump  woman.  Desperation 
seized  them  all;  dancing  and  jumping  with  the  most  comical 
gestures,  the  people  tried  to  escape  from  their  pursuers.  The 
pale  man  stood  his  ground  well,  and  struck  out  on  all  sides 
with  a  small  black  stick;  till  a  pair  of  malicious  tomtits,  that 
considered  no  method  of  attack  too  mean,  and  a  wasp,  that 
gave  him  a  sting  through  his  black  trousers  on  the  calf  of  the 
leg,  put  him  out  of  the  fight. 

The  jolly  sun  could  no  longer  keep  his  countenance,  and 
hid  his  face  behind  a  cloud.  Big  rain-drops  descended  upon 
the  struggling  party.  Suddenly,  as  though  it  had  rained  down,  a 
forest  of  big  black  toadstools  appeared.  It  was  the  outstretched 
umbrellas.  The  women  drew  their  skirts  over  their  heads, 
exposing  white  petticoats,  white-stockinged  ankles,  and  shoes 
without  heels.  Oh,  what  fun  it  was  for  Windekind!  He 
laughed  so  hard  he  had  to  cling  to  the  flower-stem. 

Faster  and  faster  fell  the  rain,  and  a  greyish,  glistening  veil 
began  to  envelop  the  woods.  Water  dripped  from  umbrellas, 
high  hats,  and  black  coats.  The  coats  shone  like  the  shells  of 
the  water  beetle,  while  the  shoes  kissed  and  smacked  on  the 
saturated  ground.  Then  the  people  gave  it  up  —  dropping 
silently  away  in  little  groups,  leaving  many  papers,  empty 
bottles,  and  orange  peels  for  unsightly  tokens  of  their  visit. 
The  little  glade  in  the  woods  was  again  solitary,  and  soon 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  monotonous  patter  of  the  rain. 

"Well,  Johannes!  Now  we  have  seen  human  beings,  also. 
Why  do  you  not  laugh  at  them,  as  well  ?" 

"Oh,  Windekind!     Are  all  human  beings  like  that?" 

"Some  of  them  are  much  worse  and  more  ugly.  At  times 
they  swear  and  tear  and  make  havoc  with  everything  that  is 
beautiful  or  admirable.     They  cut  down  trees,  and  put  horrid, 


THEQUEST  41 

square  houses  in  their  places.  They  wantonly  trample  the 
flowers,  and  kill,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  it,  every  animal  that 
comes  within  their  reach.  In  their  cities,  where  they  swarm 
together,  everything  is  dirty  and  black,  and  the  air  is  dank  and 
poisonous  with  stench  and  smoke.  They  are  completely 
estranged  from  Nature  and  her  fellow-creatures.  That  is 
why  they  make  such  a  foolish  and  sorry  figure  when  they 
return  to  them." 

"Oh,  Windekind!     Windekind!" 

"Why  are  you  crying,  Johannes?  You  must  not  cry  be- 
cause you  were  born  among  human  beings.  I  love  you  all 
the  same,  and  prefer  you  to  everybody  else.  I  have  taught 
you  the  language  of  the  birds  and  the  butterflies,  and  how  to 
understand  the  look  of  the  flowers.  The  moon  knows  you, 
and  good,  kind  Earth  loves  you  as  her  dearest  child.  Why 
should  you  not  be  glad,  since  I  am  your  friend  ?" 

"Oh,  Windekind,  I  am,  I  am!  But  then,  I  have  to  cry 
about  all  those  people." 

"Why?  If  it  makes  you  sad,  you  need  not  remain  with 
them.  You  can  live  here,  and  always  keep  me  company. 
We  will  dwell  in  the  depths  of  the  woods,  on  the  lonely,  sunny 
dunes,  or  in  the  reeds  by  the  pond.  I  will  take  you  every- 
where —  down  under  the  water  among  the  water-plants,  in 
the  palaces  of  the  elves,  and  in  the  haunts  of  the  goblins.  I 
will  hover  with  you  over  fields  and  forests  —  over  foreign 
lands  and  seas.  I  will  have  dainty  garments  spun  for  you, 
and  wings  given  you  like  these  I  wear.  We  will  live  upon  the 
sweetness  of  the  flowers,  and  dance  in  the  moonlight  with  the 
elves.  When  autumn  comes,  we  will  keep  pace  with  the  sun, 
to  lands  where  the  tall  palms  rise,  where  gorgeous  flowers 
festoon  the  rocks,  and  the  face  of  the  deep  blue  sea  lies  smiling 
in  the  sun.  And  I  will  always  tell  you  stories.  Would  you 
like  that,  Johannes?" 

"Shall  I  never  live  with  human  beings  any  more?" 

"Among  human  beings  there  await  you  endless  sorrow, 
trouble,  weariness,  and  care.     Day  after  day  must  you  toil  and 


42  THEQUEST 

sigh  under  the  burden  of  your  life.  They  will  stab  and  tor- 
ture your  sensitive  soul  with  their  roughness.  They  will  rack 
and  harass  you  to  death.  Do  you  love  human  beings  more 
than  you  love  me .'' " 

"No,  no,  Windekind!     I  will  stay  with  you." 

Now  he  could  show  how  much  he  cared  for  Windekind. 
Yes,  for  his  sake  he  would  leave  and  forget  each  and  every- 
thing —  his  bedroom.  Presto,  and  his  father.  Joyfully  and 
resolutely  he  repeated  his  wish. 

The  rain  had  ceased.  From  under  grey  clouds  the  sun- 
light streamed  over  the  woods  like  a  bright  smile.  It  touched 
the  wet,  shining  leaves,  the  rain-drops  which  sparkled  on 
every  twig  and  stem,  and  adorned  the  spider-webs,  stretched 
over  the  oak-leaves.  From  the  moist  ground  below  the  shrub- 
bery a  fine  mist  languidly  rose,  bearing  with  it  a  thousand 
sultry,  dreamy  odors.  The  blackbird  flew  to  the  top  of  the 
highest  tree,  and  sang  in  broken,  fervent  strains  to  the  sinking 
sun,  as  if  he  would  show  which  song  suited  best,  in  this  solemn 
evening  calm,  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  falling  drops. 

"Is  not  that  finer  than  the  noise  of  human  beings,  Johannes  ? 
Yes,  the  blackbird  knows  exactly  the  right  tone  to  strike. 
Here  everything  is  in  harmony  —  such  perfect  harmony  you 
will  never  find  among  human  beings." 

"What  is  harmony,  Windekind  ?" 

"It  is  the  same  as  happiness.  It  is  that  for  which  all  strive. 
Human  beings  also.  Yet  they  are  like  children  trying  to  catch 
a  butterfly.     They  simply  drive  it  away  by  their  silly  efforts." 

"Shall  I  find  it  here  with  you  ?" 

"Yes,  Johannes;  but  then  you  must  forget  human  beings. 
It  is  a  bad  beginning  to  have  been  born  among  human  beings; 
but  you  are  still  young.  You  must  put  away  from  you  all 
remembrance  of  your  human  life,  else  it  would  cause  you  to 
err  and  plunge  you  into  conflicts,  perplexities,  and  misery. 
It  would  be  with  you  as  with  the  young  May-bug  I  told  you 
about." 

"What  else  happened  to  him?" 


THE   QUEST  43 

"He  had  seen  the  bright  Hght  which  the  older  beetle  had 
spoken  of,  and  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than 
promptly  to  fly  to  it.  Straight  as  a  string,  he  flew  into  a  room, 
and  fell  into  human  hands.  For  three  long  days  he  suff^ered 
martyrdom.  He  was  put  into  cardboard  boxes,  threads  were 
tied  to  his  feet,  and  he  was  made  to  fly.  Then  he  tore  himself 
free,  with  the  loss  of  a  wing  and  a  leg,  and  finally,  creeping 
helplessly  around  on  the  carpet  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  reach 
the  garden,  he  was  crushed  by  a  heavy  foot. 

"All  creatures,  Johannes,  that  roam  around  in  the  night 
are  as  truly  children  of  the  sun  as  we  are.  And  although  they 
have  never  seen  the  shining  face  of  their  father,  still  a  dim 
remembrance  ever  impels  them  to  anything  from  which  light 
streams.  And  thousands  of  poor  creatures  of  the  darkness 
find  a  pitiful  death  through  that  love  for  the  sun  from  whom 
they  were  long  ago  cut  off  and  estranged.  Thus  a  mys- 
terious, irresistible  tendency  brings  human  beings  to  destruc- 
tion in  the  false  phantom  of  that  Great  Light  which  gave  them 
being,  but  which  they  no  longer  understand." 

Johannes  looked  up  inquiringly  into  Windekind's  eyes. 
But  they  were  deep  and  mysterious  —  like  the  dark  sky  be- 
tween the  stars. 

"Do  you  mean  God  ?"  he  asked  shyly. 

"God?"  The  deep  eyes  laughed  gently.  "I  know, 
Johannes,  of  what  you  think  when  you  utter  that  name;  of 
the  chair  before  your  bed  beside  which  you  make  your  long 
prayer  every  evening;  of  the  green  serge  curtains  of  the  church 
window  at  which  you  look  so'  often  Sunday  mornings;  of  the 
capital  letters  of  your  little  Bible;  of  the  church-bag  with  the 
long  handle;  of  the  wretched  singing  and  the  musty  atmos- 
phere. What  you  mean  by  that  name,  Johannes,  is  a  ridicu- 
lous phantom;  instead  of  the  sun,  a  great  oil-lamp  where 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  gnats  are  helplessly  stuck  fast." 

"But  what  then  is  the  name  of  the  Great  Light,  Windekind  ? 
And  to  whom  must  I  pray?" 

"Johannes,  it  is  the  same  as  if  a  speck  of  mold  turning 


44  THEQUEST 

round  with  the  earth  should  ask  me  its  bearer's  name.  If 
there  were  an  answer  to  your  question  you  would  understand 
it  no  more  than  does  the  earth-worm  the  music  of  the  spheres. 
Still,  I  will  teach  you  how  to  pray." 

Then,  with  little  Johannes,  who  was  musing  in  silent  won- 
der over  his  words,  Windekind  flew  up  out  of  the  forest,  so 
high  that  beyond  the  horizon  a  long  streak  of  shining  gold 
became  visible.  On  they  flew  —  the  fantastically  shadowed 
plain  gliding  beneath  their  glance.  And  the  band  of  light 
grew  broader  and  broader.  The  green  of  the  dunes  grew 
dun,  the  grass  looked  grey,  and  strange,  pale-blue  plants  were 
growing  there.  Still  another  high  range  of  hills,  a  long  narrow 
stretch  of  sand,  and  then  the  wide,  awful  sea. 

That  great  expanse  was  blue  as  far  as  the  horizon,  but 
below  the  sun  flashed  a  narrow  streak  of  glittering,  blinding 
red. 

A  long,  fleecy  margin  of  white  foam  encircled  the  sea,  like 
an  ermine  border  upon  blue  velvet. 

And  at  the  horizon,  sky  and  water  were  separated  by  an 
exquisite,  wonderful  line.  It  seemed  miraculous;  straight, 
and  yet  curved,  sharp,  yet  undefined  —  visible,  yet  inscrutable. 
It  was  like  the  sound  of  a  harp  that  echoes  long  and  dream- 
fully, seeming  to  die  away  and  yet  remaining. 

Then  little  Johannes  sat  down  upon  the  top  of  the  hill  and 
gazed  —  gazed  long,  in  motionless  silence,  until  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  were  about  to  die  —  as  if  the  great  golden  doors 
of  the  universe  were  majestically  unfolding,  and  his  little  soul 
were  drifting  toward  the  first  light  of  Infinity. 

And  then  the  tears  welled  in  his  wide-open  eyes  till  they 
shrouded  the  glory  of  the  sun,  and  obscured  the  splendor  of 
heaven  and  earth  in  a  dim  and  misty  twilight. 

"That  is  the  way  to  pray,'    said  Windekind. 


Did  you  ever  wander  through  the  woods  on  a  beautiful  autumn 
day,  when  the  sun  was  shining,  cahii  and  bright,  upon  the 
richly  tinted  foliage;  when  the  boughs  creaked,  and  the  dry 
leaves  rustled  about  your  feet  ? 

The  woods  seem  so  weary.  They  can  only  meditate,  and 
live  in  old  remembrances.  A  blue  haze,  like  a  dream,  sur- 
rounds them  with  a  mysterious  beauty,  and  glistening  gos- 
samer floats  through  the  air  in  idle  undulations  —  like  futile, 
aimless  meditations. 

Yet,  suddenly  and  unaccountably,  out  of  the  damp  ground, 
between  moss  and  dry  leaves,  rise  up  the  marvelous  toad- 
stools; some  thick,  deformed,  and  fleshy;  others  tall  and  slender 
with  ringed  stems  and  bright-colored  hoods.  Strange  dream- 
figures  of  the  woods  are  they! 

There  may  be  seen  also,  on  moldering  tree-trunks,  count- 
less, small  white  growths  with  little  black  tops,  as  if  they  had 
been  burnt.  Some  wise  folk  consider  them  a  kind  of  fungus. 
But  Johannes  learned  better. 

"They  are  little  candles.  They  burn  in  still  autumn  nights, 
and  the  goblin  mannikins  sit  beside  them,  and  read  in  little 
books." 

Windekind  taught  him  that,  on  such  a  still  autumn  day,  while 
Johannes  dreamly  inhaled  the  faint  odor  of  the  forest  soil. 

"What  makes  the  leaves  of  the  sycamore  so  spotted  with 
black?" 

"Oh,  the  goblins  do  that,  too,"  said  Windekind.  "When 
they  have  been  writing  nights,  they  throw  out  in  the  morning, 
over  the  leaves,  what  is  left  in  their  ink  bottles.  They  do  not 
like  this  tree.  Crosses,  and  poles  for  contribution  bags,  are 
made  out  of  sycamore  wood." 

Johannes  was  inquisitive  about  the  busy  little  goblins,  and 
he  made  W^indckind  promise  to  take  him  to  one  of  them. 

45 


46  THEQUEST 

He  had  already  been  a  long  time  with  Windekind,  and  he 
was  so  happy  in  his  new  life  that  he  felt  very  little  regret  over 
his  promise  to  forget  all  he  had  left  behind.  There  were  no 
times  of  anxiety  or  of  loneliness  —  times  when  remorse  wakens. 
Windekind  never  left  him,  and  with  him  he  was  at  home  in 
any  place.  He  slept  peacefully,  in  the  rocking  nest  of  the 
reed-bird  that  hung  among  the  green  stalks,  although  the 
bittern  roared  and  the  raven  croaked  so  ominously.  He  felt 
no  fear  on  account  of  pouring  rains  nor  shrieking  winds.  At 
such  times  he  took  shelter  in  hollow  trees  or  rabbit-holes,  and 
crept  close  under  Windekind's  mantle,  and  listened  to  the 
voice  which  was  telling  him  stories. 

And  now  he  was  going  to  see  the  goblins. 

It  was  a  good  day  for  the  visit  —  so  veiy  still.  Johannes 
fancied  he  could  already  hear  their  light  little  voices,  and  the 
tripping  of  their  tiny  feet,  although  it  was  yet  midday. 

The  birds  were  nearly  all  gone  —  the  thrushes  alone  were 
feasting  on  the  scarlet  berries.  One  was  caught  in  a  snare. 
There  it  hung  with  outstretched  wings,  struggling  until  the 
tightly  pinioned  little  foot  was  nearly  severed.  Johannes 
quickly  released  it,  and  with  a  joyful  chirp  the  bird  flew 
swiftly  away. 

The  toadstools  were  having  a  chatty  time  together. 

"Just  look  at  me,"  said  one  fat  devil-fungus.  "Did  you 
ever  see  anything  like  it  ?  See  how  thick  and  white  my  stem 
is,  and  see  how  my  hood  shines!  I  am  the  biggest  of  all. 
And  that  in  one  night!" 

"Bah!"  said  the  red  fly-fungus.  "You  are  very  clumsy  — 
so  brown  and  rough.  I  sway  on  my  slender  stalk  like  a 
grass  stem.  I  am  splendidly  red,  like  the  thrush-berry  and 
gorgeously  speckled.      I  am  handsomer  than  any  of  you." 

"  Be  still  I  "  said  Johannes,  who  had  known  them  well  in 
former  days.      "  You  are  both  poisonous." 

"That  is  a  virtue,"  said  the  red  fungus. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  be  a  human  being  ?  "  grumbled  the  big 
fellow,  scornfully.    "  If  so,  I  would  like  to  have  you  cat  me  up  !" 


THEQUEST  47 

Johannes  did  not  do  that,  however.  He  took  httle  dry 
twigs,  and  stuck  them  into  his  clumsy  hood.  That  made  him 
look  silly,  and  all  the  others  laughed  —  among  them,  a  little 
group  of  tiny  toadstools  with  small,  brown  heads,  who  in  a 
couple  of  hours  had  sprung  up  together,  and  were  jostling  one 
another  to  get  a  peep  at  the  world.  The  devil-fungus  was 
blue  with  rage.      That  brought  to  light  his  poisonous  nature. 

PufF-balls  raised  their  round,  inflated  little  heads  on  four- 
pointed  pedestals.  From  time  to  time  a  cloud  of  brown 
powder,  of  the  utmost  fineness,  flew  out  of  the  opening  in  the 
round  head.  Wherever  on  the  moist  ground  that  powder  fell, 
tiny  rootlets  would  interlace  in  the  black  earth,  and  the  fol- 
lowing year  hundreds  of  new  puff-balls  would  spring  up 

"What  a  beautiful  existence!"  said  they  to  one  another. 
"The  very  acme  of  attainment  is  to  puff  powder.  What  a  joy 
to  be  able  to  puff,  as  long  as  one  lives!" 

And  with  devout  consecration  they  drove  the  small  dust- 
clouds  into  the  air. 

"Are  they  right,  Windekind?" 

"Why  not?  For  them,  what  can  be  higher?  It  is  for- 
tunate that  they  long  for  nothing  more,  when  they  can  do 
nothing  else." 

When  night  fell,  and  the  shadows  of  the  trees  were  inter- 
mingled in  one  general  obscurity,  that  mysterious  forest  life 
did  not  cease.  The  branches  cracked  and  snapped,  the  dry 
leaves  rustled  hither  and  thither  over  the  grass  and  in  the 
underwood,  and  Johannes  felt  the  draft  from  inaudible 
wing-strokes,  and  was  conscious  of  the  presence  of  invisible 
beings.  And  now  he  heard,  clearly,  whispering  voices  and 
tripping  footsteps.  Look!  There,  in  the  dusky  depths  of 
the  bushes,  a  tiny  blue  spark  just  twinkled,  and  then  went  out. 
Another  one,  and  another!  Hush!  Listening  attentively, 
he  could  hear  a  rustling  in  the  leaves  close  beside  him,  by  the 
dark  tree-trunk.  The  blue  lights  appeared  from  behind  this, 
and  held  still  at  the  top. 

Everywhere,  now,  Johannes  saw  glimmering  lights.     They 


+8  THEOUEST 

floated  through  the  foliage,  danced  and  skipped  along  the 
ground;  and  yonder  was  a  great,  glowing  mass  like  a  blue 
bonfire. 

"What  kind  of  fire  is  that?"  asked  Johannes.  "How 
splendidly  it  burns!" 

"That  is  a  decayed  tree-trunk,"  said  Windekind.  Then 
they  went  up  to  a  bright  little  light,  which  was  burning 
steadily. 

"Now  I  will  introduce  you  to  Wistik.*  He  is  the  oldest  and 
wisest  of  the  goblins." 

Having  come  up  closer,  Johannes  saw  him  sitting  beside 
his  little  candle.  By  the  blue  light  of  this,  one  could  plainly 
distinguish  the  wrinkled,  grey-bearded  face.  He  was  reading 
aloud,  and  his  eyebrows  were  knit.  On  his  head  he  wore  a 
little  acorn  cap  with  a  tiny  feather  in  it.  Before  him  sat  a 
spider  —  listening  to  the  reading. 

Without  lifting  his  head,  the  goblin  glanced  up  from  the 
book  as  the  two  approached,  and  raised  his  eyebrows.  The 
spider  crept  away.  "Good  evening,"  said  the  goblin.  "I 
am  Wistik.     Who  are  you  ?" 

"My  name  is  Johannes.  I  am  very  happy  to  make  your 
acquaintance.     What  are  you  reading.?" 

"This  is  not  intended  for  your  ears,"  said  Wistik.  "It  is 
only  for  spiders." 

"Let  me  have  just  a  peep  at  it,  dear  Wistik!"  said  Johannes. 

"I  must  not.  It  is  the  Sacred  Book  of  the  spiders.  It  is 
in  my  keeping,  and  I  must  never  let  it  out  of  my  hands.  I  have 
the  Sacred  Book  of  the  beetles  and  the  butterflies  and  the 
hedgehogs  and  the  moles,  and  of  everything  that  lives  here. 
They  cannot  all  read,  and  when  they  wish  to  know  anything, 
I  read  it  aloud  to  them.  That  is  a  great  honor  for  me  —  a 
position  of  trust,  you  know." 

The  mannikin  nodded  very  seriously  a  couple  of  times,  and 
raised  a  tiny  forefinger. 

"What  were  you  reading  just  now  ?" 

"  The  history  of  Kribblegauw,*  the  great  hero  of  the  spiders, 

*   See  note,  page  520. 


THEQUEST  49 

who  lived  a  long  while  ago.  He  had  a  web  that  stretched 
over  three  trees,  and  that  caught  in  it  millions  of  flies  in  a  day. 
Before  Kribblegauw's  time,  spiders  made  no  webs,  and  lived 
on  grass  and  dead  creatures;  but  Kribblegauw  was  a  clever 
chap,  and  demonstrated  that  living  things  also  were  created 
for  spider's  food.  And  by  difficult  calculations,  for  he  was 
a  great  mathematician,  Kribblegauw  invented  the  artful 
spider-web.  And  the  spiders  still  make  their  webs,  thread 
for  thread,  exactly  as  he  taught  them,  only  much  smaller ; 
for  the  spider  family  has  sadly  degenerated." 

"Kribblegauw  caught  large  birds  in  his  web,  and  murdered 
thousands  of  his  own  children.  There  was  a  spider  for  you! 
Finally,  a  mighty  storm  arose,  and  dragged  Kribblegauw  with 
his  web,  and  the  three  trees  to  which  it  was  fastened,  away 
through  the  air  to  distant  forests,  where  he  is  now  everlast- 
ingly honored  because  of  his  nimbleness  and  blood-thirstiness." 

"Is  that  all  true  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"It  is  in  this  book,"  said  Wistik. 

"Do  you  believe  it  ?" 

The  goblin  shut  one  eye,  and  rested  his  forefinger  along  the 
side  of  his  nose. 

"Whenever  Kribblegauw  is  mentioned,  in  the  Sacred  Books 
of  the  other  animals,  he  is  called  a  despicable  monster;  but 
that  is  beyond  me." 

"Is  there  a  Book  of  the  Goblins,  too,  Wistik?" 

Wistik  glanced  at  Johannes  somewhat  suspiciously. 

"What  kind  of  being  are  you,  really,  Johannes  ?  There  is 
something  about  you  so  —  so  human,  I  should  say." 

"No,  no!  Rest  assured,  Wistik,"  said  Windekind  then. 
"We  are  elves;  but  Johannes  has  seen,  formerly,  many  human 
beings.  You  can  trust  him,  however.  It  will  do  him  no 
harm." 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  well  and  good;  but  I  am  called  the  wisest 
of  the  goblins,  and  I  studied  long  and  hard  before  I  learned 
what  I  know.  Now  I  must  be  prudent  with  my  wisdom.  If 
I  tell  too  much,  I  shall  lose  my  reputation." 


50  THEQUEST 

"But  in  what  book,  then,  do  you  think  the  truth  is  told  ?" 

"I  have  read  much,  but  I  do  not  beheve  I  have  ever  read 
that  book.  It  is  not  the  Book  of  the  Elves,  nor  the  Book  of 
the  Goblins.     Still,  there  must  be  such  a  book." 

"The  Book  of  Human  Beings,  perhaps?" 

"That  I  do  not  know,  but  I  should  hardly  think  so,  for  the 
Book  of  Truth  ought  to  bring  great  peace  and  happiness.  It 
should  state  exactly  why  everything  is  as  it  is,  so  that  no  one 
could  ask  or  wish  for  anything  more.  Now,  I  do  not  believe 
human  beings  have  got  so  far  as  that." 

"Oh,  no!  no!"  laughed  Windekind. 

"Is  there  really  such  a  book?"  asked  Johannes,  eagerly. 

"Yes!"  whispered  the  goblin.  "I  know  it  from  old,  old 
stories.  And  hush!  I  know  too,  where  it  is,  and  who  can 
find  it." 

"Oh,  Wistik,  Wistik!" 

"Then  why  have  you  not  yet  got  it?"  asked  Windekind. 

"Have  patience.  It  will  happen  all  right.  Some  of  the 
particulars  I  do  not  yet  know,  but  I  shall  soon  find  it.  I  have 
worked  for  it  and  sought  it  all  my  life.  For  to  him  who  finds 
it,  life  will  be  an  endless  autumnal  day —  blue  sky  above  and 
blue  haze  about  —  but  no  falling  leaves  will  rustle,  no  bough 
will  break,  and  no  drops  will  patter.  The  shadows  will  not 
waver,  and  the  gold  on  the  tree-tops  will  not  fade.  What  now 
seems  to  us  light  will  be  as  darkness,  and  what  now  seems  to 
us  happiness  will  be  as  sorrow,  to  him  who  has  read  that  book. 
Yes,  I  know  this  about  it,  and  sometime  I  shall  find  it."  The 
goblin  raised  his  eyebrows  veiy  high,  and  laid  his  finger  on 
his  lips. 

"Wistik,  if  you  could  only  teach  me.  .  .  ."  began  Johannes, 
but  before  he  could  end  he  felt  a  heavy  gust  of  wind,  and  saw, 
exactly  above  him,  a  huge  black  object  which  shot  past, 
swiftly  and  inaudibly. 

When  he  looked  round  again  for  Wistik,  he  caught  just  a 
glimpse  of  a  little  foot  disappearing  in  a  tree-trunk.  Zip!  — 
The  goblin  had  dashed  into  his  hole,  head  first  —  book  and 


THE    QUEST  51 

all.  The  candles  burned  more  and  more  feebly,  and  suddenly 
went  out.     They  were  very  queer  little  candles. 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Johannes,  in  a  fright,  clinging 
fast  to  Windekind  in  the  darkness. 

"A  night-owl,"  said  Windekind. 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  while.     Then  Johannes  asked: 

"Do  you  believe  what  Wistik  said  ?" 

"Wistik  is  not  so  wise  as  he  thinks  he  is.  He  will  never 
find  such  a  book.     Neither  will  you." 

"  But  does  it  exist  ? " 

"That  book  exists  the  same  as  your  shadow  exists,  Johan- 
nes. However  hard  you  run,  however  carefully  you  may 
reach  for  it,  you  will  never  overtake  nor  grasp  it;  and,  in  the 
end,  you  will  discover  that  it  is  yourself  you  chase.  Do  not 
be  foolish  —  forget  the  goblin's  chatter.  I  will  tell  you  a 
hundred  finer  stories.  Come  with  me!  We  will  go  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  and  see  how  our  good  Father  lifts  the 
fleecy,  white  dew-blankets  from  the  sleeping  meadow-lands. 
Come!" 

Johannes  went,  but  he  had  not  understood  Windekind's 
words  and  he  did  not  follow  his  advice.  And  while  he  watched 
the  dawn  of  the  brilliant  autumn  day,  he  was  brooding  over  the 
book  wherein  was  stated  why  all  is  as  it  is,  and  softly  repeating 
to  himself,  "Wistik!" 


VI 

It  seemed  to  him  during  the  days  that  followed  that  it  was 
no  longer  so  merry  and  cheerful  as  it  had  been  —  in  the  woods 
and  in  the  dunes  —  with  Windekind.  His  thoughts  were  no 
longer  wholly  occupied  with  what  Windekind  told  or  showed 
him.  Again  and  again  he  found  himself  musing  over  that 
book,  but  he  dared  not  speak  of  it.  Nothing  he  looked  at  now 
seemed  beautiful  or  wonderful.  The  clouds  were  so  black 
and  heavy,  he  feared  they  might  fall  upon  him.  It  pained 
him  when  the  restless  autumn  winds  shook  and  whipped  the 
poor,  tired  trees  until  the  pale  under  sides  of  the  green  leaves 
were  upturned,  and  yellow  foliage  and  dry  branches  flew  up 
in  the  air. 

What  Windekind  related  gave  him  no  satisfaction.  Much 
of  it  he  did  not  understand,  and  whenever  he  asked  one  of  his 
old  questions  he  never  received  a  full,  clear,  satisfactory 
answer. 

Thus  he  was  forced  to  think  again  of  that  book  wherein 
everything  stood  so  clearly  and  plainly  written;  and  of  that 
ever  sunny,  tranquil,  autumn  day  which  was  to  follow. 

"Wistik!     Wistik!" 

Windekind   heard   it. 

"Johannes,  you  will  remain  a  human  being,  I  fear.  Even 
your  friendship  is  like  that  of  human  beings.  The  first  one 
after  me  to  speak  to  you  has  carried  away  your  confidence. 
Alas!     My  mother  was  quite  right!" 

"No,  Windekind!  But  you  are  so  much  wiser  than  Wistik; 
you  are  as  wise  as  that  book.  Why  do  you  not  tell  me  all  ? 
See,  now!  Why  does  the  wind  blow  through  the  trees,  making 
them  bend  and  sway?  Look!  They  can  bear  no  more;  the 
finest  branches  are  breaking  and  the  leaves  are  torn  away  by 
hundreds,  although  they  are  still  so  green  and  fresh.  They 
are  so  tired,  and  yet  again  and  again  they  are  shaken  and 

5^ 


THEQUEST  53 

lashed  by  this  rude  and  cruel  wind.     Why  is  it  so  ?     What 
does  the  wind  want  ? " 

"My  poor  Johannes.     That  is  human  language!" 
"Make  it  be  still,  Windekind!     I  like  calm  and  sunshine." 
"You  ask  and  wish  like  a  human  being;  therefore  there  is 
neither  answer  nor  fulfilment.     If  you  do  not  learn  better  to 
ask  and  desire,  the  autumn  day  will  never  dawn  for  you,  and 
you  will  become  like  the  thousands  of  human  beings  who  have 
spoken  to  Wistik." 
"Are  there  so  many?" 

"Yes,  thousands,  Wistik  pretended  to  be  very  mysterious, 
but  he  is  a  prater  who  cannot  keep  his  secret.  He  hopes  to 
find  that  book  among  human  beings,  and  he  shares  his  knowl- 
edge with  any  one  who,  perhaps,  can  help  him.  And  so  he 
has  already  caused  a  great  deal  of  unhappiness.  Many  be- 
lieve him,  and  search  for  that  book  with  as  much  fervor  as 
some  do  the  secret  of  the  art  of  making  gold.  They  sacrifice 
everything,  and  forget  all  their  affairs  —  even  their  happiness 
—  and  shut  themselves  up  among  thick  books,  and  strange 
implements  and  materials.  They  hazard  their  lives  and  their 
health  —  forget  the  blue  heavens,  good,  kindly  Nature,  and 
even  their  fellow-beings.  Sometimes  they  find  beautiful  and 
useful  things,  like  lumps  of  gold.  These  they  cast  up  out  of 
their  caves,  on  the  sunny  surface  of  the  earth.  Yet  they  do 
not  concern  themselves  with  these  things  —  leaving  them  for 
others  to  enjoy.  They  dig  and  drudge  in  the  darkness  with 
eager  expectancy.  They  are  not  seeking  gold,  but  the  book. 
Some  grow  feeble-mindfed  with  the  toil,  forget  their  object  and 
their  desire,  and  wander  about  in  aimless  idleness.  The  goblin 
has  made  them  childish.  They  may  be  seen  piling  up  little 
towers  of  sand,  and  reckoning  how  many  grains  are  lacking 
before  they  tumble  down.  They  make  little  waterfalls,  and 
calculate  precisely  each  bend  and  bay  the  flow  will  make. 
They  dig  little  pits,  and  employ  all  their  patience  and  genius 
in  making  them  smooth  and  quite  free  from  stones.  If  these 
poor,  infatuated  ones  are  disturbed  in  their  labor,  and  asked 


54  THEQUEST 

what  they  are  doing,  they  look  at  you  seriously  and  impor- 
tantly, shake  their  heads  and  mutter:  'Wistik!  Wistik!' 
Yes,  it  is  all  the  fault  of  that  wicked  little  goblin.  Look  out 
for  him,  Johannes  !  " 

But  Johannes  was  staring  before  him  at  the  swaying,  creak- 
ing trees.  Above  his  clear  child-eyes  wrinkles  had  formed  in 
the  tender  flesh.     Never  before  had  he  looked  so  grave. 

"But  yet  — -  you  have  said  it  yourself,  that  there  was  such  a 
book!  Oh,  I  know  —  certainly  —  that  there  is  something  in 
it  which  you  will  not  tell  me  concerning  the  Great  Light." 

"Poor,  poor  Johannes!"  said  Windekind.  And  above  the 
rushing  and  roaring  of  the  storm  his  voice  was  like  a  peaceful 
choral-song  borne  from  afar.  "Love  me  —  love  me  with  your 
whole  being.  In  me  you  will  find  more  than  you  desire.  You 
will  realize  what  you  cannot  now  imagine,  and  you  will  your- 
self be  what  you  have  longed  to  know.  Earth  and  heaven 
will  be  your  confidants  —  the  stars  your  next  of  kin  —  in- 
finity your  dwelling-place.  Love  me  —  love  me!  Cling  to 
me  as  the  hop-vine  clings  to  the  tree  —  be  true  to  me  as  the 
lake  is  to  its  bed.  In  me  alone  will  you  find  repose, 
Johannes." 

Windekind's  words  were  ended,  but  it  seemed  as  though 
the  choral-song  continued.  Out  of  the  remote  distance  it 
seemed  to  be  floating  on  —  solemn  and  regular  —  above  the 
rushing  and  soughing  of  the  wind  —  peaceful  as  the  moonlight 
shining  between  the  driving  clouds. 

Windekind  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  Johannes  slept  upon 
his  bosom,  protected  by  the  little  blue  mantle. 

Yet  in  the  night  he  waked  up.  A  stillness  had  suddenly 
and  imperceptibly  come  over  the  earth,  and  the  moon  had 
sunk  below  the  horizon.  The  wearied  leaves  hung  motion- 
less, and  silent  darkness  filled  the  forest. 

Then  those  questions  came  back  to  Johannes'  head  again 
—  in  swift,  ghostly  succession  —  driving  out  the  very  recent 
trustfulness.  Why  were  human  beings  as  they  were  ?  Why 
must  he  leave  them  —  forego  their  love  ?     Why  must  the  winter 


THEQUEST  55 

come  ?  Why  must  the  leaves  fall,  and  the  flowers  die  ?  Why  ? 
—  Why? 

There  were  the  blue  lights  again  —  dancing  in  the  depths  of 
the  underwood.  They  came  and  went.  Johannes  gazed 
after  them  expectantly.  He  saw  the  big,  bright  light  shining 
on  the  dark  tree-trunk.  Windekind  lay  very  still,  and  fast 
asleep. 

"Just  one  question  more,"  thought  Johannes,  and  he  slipped 
out  from  under  the  blue  mantle. 

"Here  you  are  again!"  said  Wistik,  nodding  in  a  friendly 
way.  "That  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  Where  is 
your  friend  .''" 

"  Over  yonder.  I  only  wanted  to  ask  you  one  more 
question.     Will  you  answer  it  ?  " 

"You  have  been  among  human  beings,  have  you  not?  Is 
it  my  secret  you  have  come  for?" 

"Who  will  find  that  book,  Wistik  ?" 

"Ah,  yes.  That's  it;  that's  it!  Will  you  help  me  if  I  tell 
you  r 

"If  I  can,  certainly." 

"Listen  then,  Johannes."  Wistik  opened  his  eyes  amaz- 
ingly wide,  and  lifted  his  eyebrows  higher  than  ever.  Then 
he  whispered  along  the  back  of  his  little  hand: 

"Human  beings  have  the  golden  chest,  fairies  have  the 
golden  key.  The  foe  of  fairies  finds  it  not;  fairies'  friend  only, 
opens  it.  A  springtime  night  is  the  proper  time,  and  Robin 
Redbreast  knows  the  way." 

"Is  that  true,  really  true  ?"  cried  Johannes,  as  he  thought  of 
his  little  key. 

"Yes,"  said  Wistik. 

"Why,  then,  has  no  one  yet  found  it?"  asked  Johannes. 
So  many  people  are  seeking  it!" 

"I  have  told  no  human  being  what  I  have  confided  to  you, 
I  have  never  yet  found  the  fairies'  friend." 

"I  have  it,  Wistik!  I  can  help  you!"  cried  Johannes,  clap- 
ping his  hands.     "I  will  ask  Windekind." 


56  THEQUEST 

Away  he  flew,  over  moss  and  dry  leaves.  Still,  he  stumbled 
now  and  then,  and  his  step  was  heavy.  Thick  branches 
cracked  under  his  feet  where  before  not  a  grass-blade  had  bent. 

There  was  the  dense  clump  of  ferns  under  which  they  had 
slept:  how  low  it  looked! 

"Windekind!"  he  cried.  But  the  sound  of  his  own  voice 
startled  him. 

"Windekind?"  It  sounded  like  a  human  voice!  A 
frightened  night-bird  flew  up  with  a  scream. 

There  was  no  one  under  the  ferns.  Johannes  could  see 
nothing. 

The  blue  lights  had  vanished.  It  was  cold,  and  impene- 
trably dark  all  around  him.  Up  above,  he  saw  the  black, 
spectral  tree-tops  against  the  starlight. 

Once  more  he  called.  He  dared  not  again.  His  voice 
seemed  a  profanation  of  the  stillness,  and  Windekind's  name 
a  mocking  sound. 

Then  poor  little  Johannes  fell  to  the  ground,  and  sobbed  in 
contrite  sorrow. 


VII 

The  morning  was  cold  and  grey.  The  black,  glimmering 
boughs,  all  stripped  by  the  storm,  were  weeping  in  the  mist. 
Little  Johannes  ran  hurriedly  on  over  the  wet,  down-beaten 
grass  —  staring  before  him  toward  the  edge  of  the  woods 
where  it  was  lighter,  as  if  that  were  the  end  in  view.  His  eyes 
were  red  from  crying,  and  strained  with  fear  and  misery.  He 
had  been  running  back  and  forth  the  whole  night,  looking  for 
the  light.  It  had  always  been  safe  and  home-like  with  Winde- 
kind.  Now,  in  every  dark  spot  lurked  the  ghost  of  forlorn- 
ness,  and  he  dared  not  look  around. 

At  last,  he  left  the  woods  and  saw  before  him  a  meadow 
over  which  a  fine,  drizzling  rain  was  falling.  A  horse  stood 
in  the  middle  of  it  near  a  leafless  willow-tree,  motionless  and 
with  drooping  head,  while  the  water  dripped  slowly  from  its 
shining  sides,  and  out  of  its  matted  mane. 

Johannes  walked  along  by  the  woods.  He  looked  with 
tired,  anxious  eyes  toward  the  lonely  horse  and  the  grey,  misty 
rain,  and  he  whimpered  softly. 

"All  is  over  now,"  he  thought.  "The  sun  will  never  come 
out  again.  After  this  it  will  always  be  with  me  as  it  is  now 
—  here." 

But  he  dared  not  stand  still  in  his  despair;  something  more 
frightful  yet  would  happen,  he  thought. 

Then  he  saw  the  grand  enclosure  of  a  country-seat,  and, 
under  a  linden  tree  with  bright  yellow  foliage,  a  little  cottage. 

He  went  within  the  enclosure,  and  walked  through  broad 
avenues  where  the  ground  was  thickly  covered  with  layers  of 
brown  and  yellow  linden  leaves.  Purple  asters  grew  along 
the  grass-plots,  and  other  brilliant  autumn  flowers  were  flam- 
ing there. 

Then  he  came  to  a  pond.  Beside  it  stood  a  large  house 
with   low  windows   and   glass    doors.     Rose-bushes    and   ivy 

57 


58  THEQUEST 

grew  against  the  wall.  It  was  all  shut  up,  and  wore  a  gloomy 
look.  Chestnut-trees,  half  stripped  of  their  foliage,  stood  all 
around;  and,  amid  their  fallen  leaves,  Johannes  saw  the  shin- 
ing brown  chestnuts. 

Then  that  chill,  deathly  feeling  passed  away.  He  thought 
of  his  own  home.  There,  too,  were  chestnut-trees,  and  at  this 
season  he  always  went  to  find  the  glossy  nuts.  Suddenly  he 
began  to  feel  a  longing  —  as  though  he  had  heard  the  call  of 
a  familiar  voice.  He  sat  down  upon  a  bench  near  the  house, 
and  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  in  tears. 

A  peculiar  odor  caused  him  to  look  up.  A  man  stood  near 
him  with  a  white  apron  on,  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  About 
his  waist  were  strips  of  linden  bark  for  binding  up  the  flowers. 
Johannes  knew  this  scent  so  well;  it  made  him  think  of  his  own 
garden,  and  of  the  gardener,  who  brought  him  pretty  cater- 
pillars, and  showed  him  starlings'  eggs. 

He  was  not  alarmed,  although  it  was  a  human  being  who 
stood  beside  him.  He  told  the  man  that  he  had  been  deserted 
and  was  lost,  and  he  gratefully  followed  him  to  the  small 
dwelling  under  the  yellow-leaved  linden-tree. 

Indoors  sat  the  gardener's  wife,  knitting  black  stockings. 
Over  the  peat  fire  in  the  fireplace  hung  a  big  kettle  of  boiling 
water.  On  the  mat  by  the  fire  lay  a  cat  with  folded  forepaws 
—  just  as  Simon  sat  when  Johannes  left  home. 

Johannes  was  given  a  seat  by  the  fire  that  he  might  dry  his 
feet.  "Tick,  tack!  —  Tick,  tack!"  said  the  big,  hanging 
clock.  Johannes  looked  at  the  steam  which  rose,  hissing, 
from  the  kettle,  and  to  the  little  tongues  of  flame  that  skipped 
nimbly  and  whimsically  over  the  peat. 

"Now  I  am  among  human  beings,"  thought  he. 

It  was  not  bad.  He  felt  calm  and  contented.  They  were 
good  and  kind,  and  asked  what  he  would  like  best  to  do. 

"I  would  like  best  to  stay  here,"  he  replied. 

Here  he  was  at  peace,  but  if  he  went  home,  sorrow  and 
tears  would  follow.  He  would  be  obliged  to  maintain  silence, 
and  they  would  tell  him  that  he  had  been  naughty.     He  would 


THEQUEST  59 

have  to  see  all  the  past  over  again,  and  think  once  more  of 
everything. 

He  did  long  for  his  little  room,  for  his  father,  for  Presto  — 
but  he  vi^ould  rather  endure  the  silent  longing  where  he  was, 
than  the  painful,  racking  return.  It  seemed  as  if  here  he 
might  be  thinking  of  Windekind,  while  at  home  he  could  not. 

Windekind  had  surely  gone  away  now  —  far  away  to  the 
sunny  land  where  the  palms  were  bending  over  the  blue  seas. 
He  would  do  penance  here,  and  wait  for  him. 

And  so  he  implored  the  two  good  people  to  let  him  stay. 
He  would  be  obedient  and  work  for  them.  He  would  help 
care  for  the  garden  and  the  flowers,  but  only  for  this  winter;  — 
for  he  hoped  in  his  heart  that  Windekind  would  return  in 
the  spring. 

The  gardener  and  his  wife  thought  that  Johannes  had  run 
away  because  he  was  not  treated  well  at  home.  They  sym- 
pathized with  him,  and  promised  to  let  him  stay. 

He  remained,  and  helped  them  in  the  garden  and  among 
the  flowers.  He  was  given  a  little  bedroom,  with  a  blue 
wooden  bedstead.  From  it,  mornings,  he  could  see  the  wet, 
yellow  linden  leaves  slipping  along  the  window-panes;  and 
nights,  the  dark  boughs  rocking  to  and  fro  —  with  the  stars 
playing  hide-and-seek  behind  them.  He  gave  names  to  the 
stars,  and  called  the  brightest  Windekind. 

He  told  his  history  to  the  flowers  —  almost  all  of  which  he 
had  known  at  home;  the  big,  serious  asters,  the  gaudy  zinias, 
and  the  white  chrysanthemums  which  continued  to  bloom  so 
late  in  the  rude  autumn.  When  all  the  other  flowers  were 
dead  the  chrysanthemums  still  stood  —  and  even  after  the 
first  snowfall,  when  Johannes  came  one  morning  early  to  look 
at  them,  they  lifted  their  cheerful  faces  and  said:  "Yes,  we  are 
still  here.  You  didn't  think  we  would  be,  did  you  ?"  They 
were  very  brave,  but  two  days  later  they  were  all  dead. 

But  the  palms  and  tree-ferns  still  flourished  in  the  green- 
house, and  the  strange  flower-clusters  of  the  orchids  hung  in 
their  humid,  sultry  air.     Johannes  gazed  with  wonder  into  the 


6o  THEQUEST 

splendid  cups,  and  thought  of  Windekind.  On  going  out-of- 
doors,  how  cold  and  colorless  everything  looked  —  the  black 
footsteps  in  the  damp  snow,  and  the  rattling,  dripping  skele- 
tons of  trees! 

Hour  after  hour,  while  the  snowflakes  were  silently  falling 
until  the  branches  bowed  beneath  their  weight  of  down, 
Johannes  walked  eagerly  on  in  the  violet  dusk  of  the  snow- 
shadowed  woods.  It  was  silence,  but  not  death.  And  it  was 
almost  more  beautiful  than  summer  verdure;  the  interlocking 
of  the  pure  white  branches  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  or  the 
descending  clouds  of  glittering  flakes  when  a  heavily  laden 
shrub  let  slide  its  snowy  burden. 

Once,  on  such  a  walk,  when  he  had  gone  so  far  that  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  save  snow,  and  snow-covered  branches  —  half 
white,  half  black  —  and  all  sound  and  life  seemed  smothered 
under  its  glistening  covering,  he  thought  he  saw  a  tiny  white 
animal  run  nimbly  out  in  front  of  him.  He  followed  it.  It 
bore  no  likeness  to  any  that  he  knew.  Then  he  tried  to  grasp 
it,  but  it  sped  away  and  disappeared  in  a  tree-trunk.  Jo- 
hannes peered  into  the  round,  black  opening,  and  thought 
—  "Could  it  be  Wistik?" 

He  did  not  think  much  about  him.  It  seemed  mean  to  do 
so,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  weaken  in  his  doing  of  penance. 
And  life  with  the  two  good  people  left  him  little  to  ask  for. 
Evenings,  he  had  to  read  aloud  out  of  a  thick  book,  in  which 
much  was  said  about  God.  But  he  knew  that  book,  and 
read  it  absent-mindedly. 

The  night  after  his  walk  in  the  snow,  however,  he  lay  awake 
in  bed,  looking  at  the  cold  shining  of  the  moonlight  on  the 
floor.  Suddenly  he  saw  two  tiny  hands  close  beside  him  — 
clinging  fast  to  the  bedside.  Then  the  top  of  a  little  white  fur 
cap  appeared  between  the  two  hands,  and  at  last  he  saw  a 
pair  of  earnest  eyes  under  high-lifted  eyebrows. 

"Good  evening,  Johannes,"  said  Wistik.  "I  came  to 
remind  you  of  our  agreement.  You  cannot  have  found  the 
book  yet,  for  the  spring  has  not  come.     But  are  you  keeping 


THE    QUEST  6i 

it  in  mind  ?  What  is  the  thick  book  I  have  seen  you  reading 
in  ?     That  cannot  be  the  true  book.     Do  not  think  that." 

"I  do  not  think  so,  Wistik,"  said  Johannes,  He  turned 
over  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  he  could  not  get  the 
little  key  out  of  his  head. 

And  from  this  time  on,  as  he  read  in  the  thick  book,  he 
kept  thinking  about  it,  and  he  saw  clearly  that  it  was  not  the 
true  book. 


VIII 

"Now  he  will  come,"  thought  Johannes,  the  first  time  the 
snow  had  melted  away,  and  here  and  there  little  clusters  of 
snowdrops  began  to  appear.  "Will  he  not  come  now?"  he 
asked  the  snowdrops.  They  could  not  tell,  but  remained  with 
drooping  heads  looking  at  the  earth  as  if  they  were  ashamed 
of  their  haste,  and  wished  to  creep  away  again. 

If  they  only  could  have  done  so!  The  numbing  east  winds 
soon  began  to  blow  again,  and  the  poor,  rash  things  were 
buried  deep  in  the  drifted  snow. 

Weeks  later  came  the  violets,  their  sweet  perfume  floating 
through  the  shrubbery.  And  when  the  sun  had  shone  long 
and  warmly  on  the  mossy  ground,  the  fair  primulas  opened 
out  by  hundreds  and  by  thousands. 

The  shy  violets,  with  their  rich  fragrance,  were  mysterious 
harbingers  of  coming  magnificence,  yet  the  cheerful  primulas 
were  gladness  itself.  The  awakened  earth  had  taken  to  her- 
self the  first  sunbeams,  and  made  of  them  a  golden  orna- 
ment. 

"Now,"  thought  Johannes,  "now  he  is  surely  coming!"  In 
suspense  he  watched  the  buds  on  the  branches,  as  they  swelled 
slowly  day  by  day,  and  freed  themselves  from  the  bark,  till 
the  first  pale-green  points  appeared  among  the  brown  scales. 
Johannes  stayed  a  long  time  looking  at  those  little  green 
leaves,  and  never  saw  them  stir.  But  even  if  he  only  just 
turned  around  they  seemed  to  have  grown  bigger.  "They 
do  not  dare  while  I  am  watching  them,"  he  thought. 

The  foliage  had  already  begun  to  cast  a  shade,  yet  Winde- 
kind  had  not  come.  No  dove  had  alighted  near  him  —  no 
little  mouse  had  spoken  to  him.  When  he  addressed  the 
flowers  they  scarcely  nodded,  and  made  no  reply  whatever. 
"My  penance  is  not  over  yet,"  he  thought. 

Then  one  sunny  spring  morning  he  passed  the  pond  and 

62 


THEQUEST  63 

the  house.  The  windows  were  all  wide  open.  He  wondered 
if  any  of  the  people  had  come  yet. 

The  wild  cherry  that  stood  by  the  pond  was  entirely  covered 
with  tender  leaves.  Every  twig  was  furnished  with  little, 
delicate-green  wings.  On  the  grass  beside  the  bush  sat  a 
young  girl.  Johannes  saw  only  her  light-blue  frock  and  her 
blonde  hair.  A  robin  was  perched  on  her  shoulder,  and 
pecked  out  of  her  hand.  Suddenly,  she  turned  her  head 
around  and  saw  Johannes. 

"Good  day,  little  boy,"  said  she,  nodding  in  a  friendly  way. 

Again  Johannes  thrilled  from  head  to  foot.  Those  were 
Windekind's  eyes  —  that  was  Windekind's  voice! 

"Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked,  his  lips  quivering  with  feeling. 

"I  am  Robinetta,  and  this  is  my  bird.  He  will  not  be 
afraid  of  you.     Do  you  like  birds  .f"' 

The  redbreast  was  not  afraid  of  Johannes.  It  flew  to  his 
arm.  That  was  like  old  times.  And  it  must  be  Windekind 
—  that  azure  being! 

"Tell  me  your  name,  Laddie,"  said  Windekind's  voice. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  am 
Johannes  ?" 

"How  could  I  know  that?" 

What  did  that  mean  ?  Still,  it  was  the  well-known,  sweet 
voice.     Those  were  the  dark,  heavenly-deep,  blue  eyes. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so,  Johannes.^  Have  you  ever 
seen  me  before  ? " 

"Yes,  I  do  believe  so." 

"Surely,  you  must  have  dreamed  it!" 

"Dreamed?"  thought  Johannes.  "Can  I  have  dreamed 
everything?     Can  I  be  dreaming  now?" 

"Where  were  you  born?"  he  asked. 

"A  long  way  from  here,  in  a  great  city." 

"Amone  human  beings?" 

Robinetta  laughed.  It  was  Windekind's  laugh.  "I  be- 
lieve so.     Were  not  you?" 

"Alas,  yes!     I  was  too!" 


64  THEQUEST 

"Are  you  sorry  for  that  ?     Do  you  not  like  human  beings  ?" 

"No.     Who  COM W  Hke  them  ? " 

"Who?  Well,  Johannes;  but  you  are  an  odd  child!  Do 
you  like  animals  better?" 

"Oh,  much  better  —  and  flowers." 

"Really,  I  do,  too  —  sometimes.  But  that  is  not  right. 
Father  says  we  must  love  our  friends." 

"Why  is  that  not  right?  I  like  whom  I  choose  whether  it 
is  right  or  not." 

"Fie,  Johannes!  Have  you  no  parents,  then,  nor  any  one 
who  cares  for  you  ?     Are  you  not  fond  of  them  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Johannes,  remembering.  "I  love  my  father, 
but  not  because  it  is  right,  nor  because  he  is  a  human 
being." 

"Why,  then?" 

"I  do  not  know  —  because  he  is  not  like  other  human 
beings  —  because  he,  too,  is  fond  of  birds  and  flowers." 

"And  so  am  I,  Johannes.  Look!"  And  Robinetta  called 
the  robin  to  her  hand,  and  petted  it. 

"I  know  it,"  said  Johannes.  "And  I  love  you  very  much, 
too. 

"Already  ?  That  is  very  soon,"  laughed  the  girl.  "Whom 
do  you  love  best  of  all  ? " 

"I  love — "  Johannes  hesitated.  Should  he  speak  Winde- 
kind's  name  ?  The  fear  that  he  might  let  slip  that  name  to 
human  ears  was  never  out  of  his  thoughts.  And  yet,  was  not 
this  fair-haired  being  in  blue,  Windekind  himself?  Who  else 
could  give  him  that  feeling  of  rest  and  happiness  ? 

"You!"  said  he,  all  at  once,  looking  frankly  into  the  deep 
blue  eyes.  Courageously,  he  ventured  a  full  surrender.  He 
was  anxious,  though,  and  eagerly  awaited  the  reception  of  his 
precious  gift. 

Again  Robinetta  laughed  heartily,  but  she  pressed  his  hand, 
and  her  look  was  no  colder,  her  voice  no  less  cordial. 

"Well,  Johannes,"  said  she,  "what  have  I  done  to  earn 
this  so  suddenly  ?" 


THEQUEST  65 

Johannes  made  no  reply,  but  stood  looking  at  her  with 
growing  confidence. 

Robinetta  stood  up,  and  laid  her  arm  about  Johannes' 
shoulders.     She  was  taller  than  he. 

Thus  they  strolled  through  the  woods,  and  picked  great 
clusters  of  cowslips,  until  they  could  have  hidden  under  the 
mountain  of  sun-filled  yellow  flowers.  The  little  redbreast 
went  with  them  —  flying  from  branch  to  branch,  and  peering 
at  them  with  its  shining  little  black  eyes. 

They  did  not  speak  much,  but  now  and  then  looked  askance 
at  each  other.  They  were  both  perplexed  by  this  adventure, 
and  uncertain  what  they  ought  to  think  of  each  other. 

Much  to  her  regret,  Robinetta  had  soon  to  turn  back. 

"I  must  go  now,  Johannes,  but  will  you  not  take  another 
walk  with  me  ?  I  think  you  are  a  nice  little  boy,"  said  she  in 
taking  her  leave. 

"Tweet!     Tweet!"  said  the  robin  as  he  flew  after  her. 

When  she  had  gone,  and  her  image  alone  remained  to  him, 
he  doubted  no  more  who  she  was.  She  was  the  very  same  to 
whom  he  had  given  his  friendship.  The  name  Windekind 
rang  fainter,  and  became  confused  with  Robinetta. 

Everything  about  him  was  again  the  same  as  it  had  formerly 
been.  The  flowers  nodded  cheerfully,  and  their  perfume 
chased  away  the  melancholy  longing  for  home  which,  until 
now,  he  had  felt  and  encouraged.  Amid  the  tender  greenery, 
in  the  soft,  mild,  vernal  air,  he  felt  all  at  once  at  home,  like  a 
bird  that  had  found  its  nest.  He  stretched  out  his  arms  and 
took  in  a  full,  deep  breath  —  he  was  so  happy!  On  his  way 
home,  wherever  he  looked  he  always  saw  gliding  before  him 
the  figure  in  light  blue  with  the  golden  hair.  It  was  as  though 
he  had  been  looking  at  the  sun,  until  its  image  was  stamped 
upon  everything  he  saw. 

From  this  day  on  Johannes  went  to  the  pond  every  clear 
morning.  He  went  early  —  as  soon  as  he  was  wakened  by 
the  squabbling  of  the  sparrows  in  the  ivy  about  his  window, 
and  by  the  tedious  chirping  and  chattering  of  the  starlings,  as 


66  THEQUEST 

they  fluttered  in  the  water-leader  in  the  early  sunshine.  Then 
he  hurried  through  the  dewy  grass,  close  to  the  house,  and 
watched  from  behind  the  lilac-bush  until  he  heard  the  glass 
door  open,  and  saw  the  bright  figure  coming  toward  him. 

Then  they  wandered  through  the  woods,  and  over  the  hills 
which  lay  beyond.  They  talked  about  everything  in  sight; 
the  trees,  the  plants,  and  the  dunes.  Johannes  had  a  strange, 
giddy  sensation  as  he  walked  beside  her.  Sometimes  he  felt 
light  enough  again  to  fly  through  the  air.  But  he  never  could. 
He  told  the  story  of  the  flowers  and  of  the  animals,  as  Winde- 
kind  had  given  it  to  him.  But  he  forgot  how  he  had  learned 
it,  and  Windekind  existed  no  more  for  him  —  only  Robinetta. 
He  was  happy  when  she  laughed  with  him,  and  he  saw  the 
friendship  in  her  eyes;  and  he  spoke  to  her  as  he  had  formerly 
done  to  his  little  dog  —  saying  whatever  came  into  his  head, 
without  hesitation  or  shyness.  When  he  did  not  see  her  he 
spent  the  hours  in  thinking  of  her;  and  each  thing  he  did  was 
with  the  question  whether  Robinetta  would  find  it  good  or 
beautiful. 

And  she,  herself,  appeared  always  so  pleased  to  see  him. 
She  would  smile  and  hasten  her  steps.  She  had  told  him  that 
she  would  rather  walk  with  him  than  with  any  one  else. 

"But,  Johannes,"  she  once  asked,  "how  do  you  know  all 
these  things  ^  How  do  you  know  what  the  May-bugs  think, 
what  the  thrushes  sing,  and  how  it  looks  in  a  rabbit-hole,  or 
on  the  bottom  of  the  water  .? " 

"They  have  told  me,"  answered  Johannes,  "and  I  have 
myself  been  in  a  rabbit-hole  and  on  the  bottom  of  the  water." 

Robinetta  knitted  her  delicate  eyebrows  and  looked  at  him 
half  mockingly.     But  his  face  was  full  of  truth. 

They  were  sitting  under  lilac  trees,  from  which  hung  thick, 
purple  clusters.  Before  them  lay  the  pond  with  its  reeds  and 
duck-weed.  They  saw  the  black  beetles  gliding  in  circles 
over  the  surface,  and  little  red  spiders  busily  darting  up  and 
down.  It  swarmed  with  life  and  movement.  Johannes, 
absorbed  in  remembrances,  gazed  into  the  depths,  and  said: 


THEQUEST  67 

"I  went  down  there  once.  I  slipped  down  a  reed  to  the 
very  bottom.  It  is  all  covered  with  fallen  leaves  which  make 
it  so  soft  and  smooth.  It  is  always  twilight  there  —  a  green 
twilight  —  for  the  light  falls  through  the  green  duck-weed. 
And  over  my  head  I  saw  the  long,  white  rootlets  hanging  down. 

"The  newts,  which  are  very  inquisitive,  came  swimming 
about  me.  It  gives  a  strange  feeling  to  have  such  great  crea- 
tures swimming  above  one;  and  I  could  not  see  far  in  front, 
for  it  was  dark  there  —  yet  green,  too.  And  in  that  darkness 
the  living  things  appeared  like  black  shadows.  There  were 
paddle-footed  water-beetles,  and  flat  mussels,  and  sometimes, 
too,  a  little  fish.  I  went  a  long  way  —  hours  away,  I  believe 
—  and  in  the  middle  was  a  great  forest  of  water-plants,  where 
snails  were  creeping,  and  water-spiders  were  weaving  their 
glistening  nests.  Minnows  darted  in  and  out,  and  sometimes 
they  stayed  with  open  mouths  and  quivering  fins  to  look  at 
me,  they  were  so  amazed.  There  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  an  eel  whose  tail  I  had  the  misfortune  to  step  on.  He  told 
me  about  his  travels.  He  had  been  as  far  as  the  sea,  he  said. 
Because  of  this,  he  had  been  made  King  of  the  Pond  —  for 
no  one  else  had  been  so  far.  He  always  lay  in  the  mud, 
sleeping,  except  when  others  brought  him  something  to  eat. 
He  was  a  frightful  eater.  That  was  because  he  was  a  king. 
They  prefer  a  fat  king  —  one  that  is  portly  and  dignified. 
Oh,  it  was  splendid  in  that  pond!" 

"Then  why  can  you  not  go  there  again  —  now  ?" 

"Now  ?"  asked  Johannes,  looking  at  her  with  great,  ponder- 
ing eyes.  "Now?  I  can  never  go  again.  I  should  be 
drowned.  But  there  is  no  need  of  it.  I  would  rather  be 
here  by  the  lilacs,  with  you." 

Robinetta  shook  her  little  blonde  head  wonderingly,  and 
stroked  Johannes'  hair.  Then  she  looked  at  her  robin,  which 
seemed  to  be  finding  all  kinds  of  tid-bits  at  the  margin  of  the 
pond.  Just  then  it  looked  up,  and  kept  watching  the  two 
with  its  bright  little  eyes. 

"Do  you  understand  anything  about  it,  Birdling?" 


68  THEOUEST 

The  bird  gave  a  knowing  glance,  and  then  went  on  with  its 
hunting  and  pecking. 

"Tell  me  something  more,   Johannes,  of  what  you  have 

>» 
seen. 

Johannes  gladly  did  so,  and  Robinetta  listened  attentively, 
believing  all  he  said. 

"  But  what  is  to  prevent  all  that,  noiu?  Why  can  you  not  go 
again  with  me  to  all  those  places  ?     I  should  love  to  go." 

Johannes  tried  his  best  to  remember,  but  a  sunny  haze 
obscured  the  dim  distance  over  which  he  had  passed.  He 
could  not  exactly  tell  how  he  had  lost  his  former  happiness. 

"I  do  not  quite  know  —  you  must  not  ask  about  it.  A 
silly  little  creature  spoiled  it  all.  But  now  it  is  all  right  again; 
still  better  than  before." 

The  perfume  of  the  lilacs  settled  gently  down  upon  them; 
and  the  humming  of  the  insects  over  the  water,  and  the 
peaceful  sunshine,  filled  them  with  a  sweet  drowsiness;  until 
a  shrill  bell  at  the  house  began  to  ring,  and  Robinetta  sped 
away. 

That  evening,  when  Johannes  was  in  his  little  room,  looking 
at  the  moon-shadows  cast  by  the  ivy  leaves  which  covered  the 
window-panes  —  there  seemed  to  be  a  tapping  on  the  glass. 
Johannes  thought  it  was  an  ivy  leaf  fluttering  in  the  night 
wind.  Yet  it  tapped  so  plainly  —  always  three  taps  at  a 
time  —  that  Johannes  very  gently  opened  the  window  and 
cautiously  looked  about.  The  ivy  against  the  house  gleamed 
in  the  blue  light.  Below,  lay  a  dim  world  full  of  mystery. 
There  were  caverns  and  openings  into  which  the  moonlight 
cast  little  blue  flecks  —  making  the  darkness  still  deeper. 

After  Johannes  had  been  gazing  a  long  time  into  this  won- 
derful world  of  shadows,  he  saw  the  form  of  a  mannikin  close 
by  the  window,  half  hidden  by  a  large  ivy  leaf.  He  recognized 
Wistik  instantly,  by  his  great,  wonder-struck  eyes  under  the 
uplifted  brows.  A  tiny  moonbeam  just  touched  the  tip  of 
Wistik's  long  nose. 

"Have  you  forgotten  me,  Johannes?     Why  are  you  not 


THEQUEST  69 

thinking  about  it  now  ?  It  is  the  right  time.  Did  you  ask 
Robin  Redbreast  the  way?" 

"Ah,  Wistik,  why  should  I  ask  ?  I  have  everything  I  could 
wish  for.     I  have  Robinetta." 

"But  that  will  not  last  long.  And  you  can  be  still  happier 
—  Robinetta,  too.  Must  the  little  key  stay  where  it  is,  then  ? 
Only  think  how  grand  it  would  be  if  you  both  should  find  the 
book!  Ask  Robin  Redbreast  about  it.  I  will  help  you 
whenever  I  can." 

"At  least,  I  can  ask  about  it,"  said  Johannes. 

Wistik  nodded,  and  scrambled  nimbly  down  the  vines. 

Before  he  went  to  bed,  Johannes  stayed  a  long  time  —  look- 
ing at  the  dark  shadows  and  the  shining  ivy  leaves. 

The  next  day  he  asked  the  redbreast  if  he  knew  the  way  to 
the  golden  chest.  Robinetta  listened,  in  astonishment.  Jo- 
hannes saw  the  robin  nod,  and  peep  askance  at  Robinetta. 

"Not  here,  not  here!"  chirped  the  litttle  bird. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Johannes?"  asked  Robinetta. 

"Do  you  not  know  about  it,  Robinetta,  and  where  to  find 
it?     Are  you  not  waiting  for  the  little  gold  key?" 

"No!  no!     Tell  me  —  what  is  that?" 

Johannes  told  her  what  he  knew  about  the  book. 

"And  I  have  the  little  key.  I  thought  you  had  the  golden 
chest.     Is  it  not  so.  Birdie?" 

But  the  bird  feigned  not  to  hear,  and  fluttered  about  among 
the  fresh,  bright  beech  leaves. 

They  were  resting  against  a  slope  on  which  small  beech  and 
spruce  trees  were  growing.  A  narrow  green  path  ran  slantingly 
by,  and  they  sat  at  the  border  of  it,  on  thick,  dark-green  moss. 
They  could  look  over  the  tops  of  the  lowest  saplings  upon  a 
sea  of  green  foliage  billowing  in  sun  and  shade. 

"I  do  believe,  Johannes,"  said  Robinetta,  after  a  little, 
"that  I  can  find  what  you  are  looking  for.  But  what  do  you 
mean  about  the  little  key  ?     How  did  you  come  by  it  ?" 

"Why!  How  did  I  ?  How  was  it  ?"  murmured  Johannes, 
gazing  far  away  over  the  green  expanse. 


70  THEQUEST 

Suddenly,  as  though  fledged  in  the  sunny  sky,  two  white 
butterflies  met  his  sight.  They  whirled  about  with  uncertain 
capricious  flight  —  fluttering  and  twinkling  in  the  sunlight. 
Yet  they  came  closer. 

"Windekind!  Windekind!"  whispered  Johannes,  suddenly 
remembering. 

"Who  is  that?     Who  is  Windekind.?"  asked  Robinetta. 

The  redbreast  flew  up,  chattering,  and  the  daisies  in  the 
grass  before  him  seemed  suddenly  to  be  staring  at  Johannes 
in  great  alarm  with  their  white,  wide-open  eyes. 

"Did  he  give  you  the  little  key?"  continued  the  girl.  Jo- 
hannes nodded,  in  silence;  but  she  wanted  to  know  more. 

"Who  was  it  ?  Did  he  teach  you  all  those  things  ?  Where 
is  he  ?" 

"He  is  not  any  more.  It  is  Robinetta  now  —  no  one  but 
Robinetta.  Robinetta  alone!"  He  clasped  her  arm,  and 
pressed  his  little  head  against  it. 

"Silly  boy!"  she  said,  laughing.  "I  will  find  the  book  for 
you  —  I  know  where  it  is." 

"But  then  I  must  go  and  get  the  key,  and  it  is  far  away." 

"No,  no,  you  need  not.  I  will  find  it  without  a  key  — 
to-morrow  —  I   promise  you." 

On  their  way  home,  the  little  butterflies  flitted  back  and 
forth  in  front  of  them. 

Johannes  dreamed  of  his  father  that  night  —  of  Robinetta, 
and  of  many  others.  They  were  all  good  friends,  and  they 
stood  near  looking  at  him  cordially,  and  trustfully.  Yet  later, 
their  faces  changed.  They  grew  cold  and  ironical.  He 
looked  anxiously  around;  on  all  sides  were  fierce,  hostile  faces. 
He  felt  a  nameless  distress,  and  waked  up  weeping. 


IX 

Johannes  had  already  sat  a  long  while,  waiting.  The  air 
was  chilly,  and  great  clouds  were  drifting  close  above  the 
earth  in  endless,  majestic  succession.  They  spread  out 
sombre,  wide-waving  mantles,  and  reared  their  haughty  heads 
toward  the  clear  light  that  shone  above  them.  Sunlight  and 
shadow  chased  each  other  swiftly  over  the  trees,  like  flickering 
flames.  Johannes  was  in  an  anxious  state  of  mind,  thinking 
about  the  book;  not  believing  that  he  should  really  find  it  that 
day.  Between  the  clouds  —  much  higher  —  awfully  high, 
he  saw  an  expanse  of  clear  blue  sky;  and  upon  it,  stretched  out 
in  motionless  calm,  were  delicate,  white,  plume-like   clouds. 

"It  ought  be  like  that,"  he  thought.  "So  high,  so  bright, 
so  still!" 

Then  came  Robinetta.     The  robin  was  not  with  her. 

"It  is  all  right,  Johannes,"  she  cried  out.  "You  may  come 
and  see  the  book." 

"Where  is  Robin  Redbreast?"  said  Johannes,  mistrust- 
fully. 

"He  did  not  come.     But  we  are  not  going  for  a  walk." 

Then  he  went  with  her,  thinking  all  the  time  to  himself: 

"It  cannot  be!  Not  this  way!  —  it  must  be  entirely  dif- 
ferent!" 

Yet  he  followed  the  sunny,  blonde  hair  that  lighted  his  way. 

Alas!  things  went  sadly  now  with  little  Johannes.  I  could 
wish  that  his  story  ended  here.  Did  you  ever  have  a  splendid 
dream  of  a  magical  garden  where  the  flowers  and  animals  all 
loved  you  and  talked  to  you  ?  And  did  the  idea  come  to  you 
then,  that  you  might  wake  up  soon,  and  all  that  happiness  be 
lost  ?  Then  you  vainly  try  to  hold  the  dream  —  and  not  to 
wake  to  the  cold  light  of  day.  That  was  the  way  Johannes 
felt  when  he  went  with  Robinetta. 

He  went  into  the  house  —  and  down  a  passage  that  echoed 

71 


72  THEQUEST 

with  his  footsteps.  He  breathed  the  air  of  clothes  and  food; 
he  thought  of  the  long  days  when  he  had  had  to  stay  indoors,  of 
his  school-tasks,  and  of  all  that  had  been  sombre  and  cold  in 
his  life. 

He  entered  a  room  with  people  in  it  —  how  many  he  did 
not  see.  They  were  talking  together,  yet  when  he  came  they 
ceased  to  speak.  He  noticed  the  carpet;  it  had  big,  impossible 
flowers  in  glaring  colors.  They  were  as  strange  and  deformed 
as  those  of  the  hangings  in  his  bedroom  at  home. 

"Well,  is  this  the  gardener's  little  boy?"  said  a  voice  right 
in  front  of  him.  "Come  here,  my  young  friend;  you  need  not 
be  afraid." 

And  another  voice  sounded  suddenly,  close  beside  him: 
"Well,  Robbi,  a  pretty  little  playmate  you  have  there!" 

What  did  all  this  mean  ?  The  deep  wrinkles  came  again 
above  the  child's  dark  eyes,  and  Johannes  looked  around  in 
perplexity. 

A  man  in  black  clothes  sat  near  —  looking  at  him  with  cold, 
grey  eyes. 

"And  so  you  wish  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  Book  of 
Books!  It  amazes  me  that  your  father,  whom  I  know  to  be 
a  devout  man,  has  not  already  given  it  to  you." 

"You  do  not  know  my  father  —  he  is  far  away." 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  it  is  all  the  same.  Look  here,  my 
young  friend!  Read  a  great  deal  in  this.  Upon  your  path 
in  life  it  will   ..." 

But  Johannes  had  already  recognized  the  book.  It  could 
not  possibly  come  to  him  in  this  way!  No!  he  could  not  have 
it  so.      He  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no!  This  is  not  what  I  mean.  This  I  know.  This 
is  not  it." 

He  heard  sounds  of  surprise,  and  felt  the  looks  which 
were  fastened  on  him  from  all  sides. 

"What!     What  do  you  mean,  child?" 

"I  know  this  book;  it  is  the  Book  of  Human  Beings.  But 
there  is  not  enough  in  it;  if  there  were  there  would  be  rest 


THE    QUEST  73 

among  men  —  and  peace.  And  there  is  none.  I  mean  some- 
thing else  about  which  no  one  can  doubt  who  sees  it  —  wherein 
is  told  why  everything  is  as  it  is  —  precisely  and  plainly." 

"How  is  that  possible?  Where  did  the  boy  get  that 
notion  ?" 

"Who  taught  you  that,  my  young  friend  ?" 

"I  believe  you  have  been  reading  depraved  books,  boy,  and 
are  repeating  the  words!" 

Thus  rang  the  various  voices.  Johannes  felt  his  cheeks 
burning,  and  he  began  to  feel  dizzy.  The  room  spun  round, 
and  the  huge  flowers  on  the  carpet  floated  up  and  down. 
Where  was  the  little  mouse  which  had  warned  him  so  faith- 
fully that  day  at  school  I     He  needed  him  now. 

"I  am  not  repeating  it  out  of  books,  and  he  who  taught  me 
is  worth  more  than  all  of  you  together.  I  know  the  language 
of  flowers,  and  of  animals  —  I  am  their  intimate  friend.  I 
know,  too,  what  human  beings  are,  and  how  they  live,  I  know 
all  the  secrets  of  fairies  and  of  goblins,  for  they  love  me  more 
than  human  beings  do." 

Oh,  Mousiel     Mousie! 

Johannes  heard  coughing  and  laughing,  around  and  behind 
him.     It  all  rang  and  rasped  in  his  ears. 

"He  seems  to  have  been  reading  Andersen." 

"He  is  not  quite  right  in  his  head." 

The  man  in  front  of  him  said: 

"If  you  know  Andersen,  little  man,  you  ought  to  have  more 
respect  for  God  and  His  Word."  "God!"  He  knew  that 
word,  and  he  thought  about  Windekind's  lesson. 

"I  have  no  respect  for  God.  God  is  a  big  oil-lamp,  which 
draws  thousands  to  wreck  and  ruin." 

No  laughing  now,  but  a  serious  silence  in  which  the  horror 
and  consternation  were  palpable.  Johannes  felt  even  in  his 
back  the  piercing  looks.  It  was  like  his  dream  of  the  night 
before. 

The  man  in  black  stood  up  and  took  him  by  the  arm.  That 
hurt,  and  almost  broke  his  heart. 


74  THEQUEST 

"Listen,  boy!  I  do  not  know  whether  you  are  fooHsh  or 
deeply  depraved,  but  I  will  not  suffer  such  godlessness  here. 
Go  away  and  never  come  into  my  sight  again,  wretched  boy! 
I  shall  ask  about  you,  but  never  again  set  foot  in  this  house. 
Do  you   understand?" 

Everybody  looked  at  him  coldly  and  unkindly  —  as  in  his 
dream  the  night  before.  Johannes  looked  around  him  in 
distress. 

"Robinetta!     Where  is  Robinetta.?" 

"Well,  indeed!  Corrupt  my  child?  If  you  ever  speak  to 
her  again,  look  out!" 

"No,  let  me  go  to  her!  I  will  not  leave  her.  Robinetta!" 
cried  Johannes. 

But  she  sat  in  a  corner,  frightened,  and  did  not  look 
up. 

"Out,  you  rascal!  Do  you  hear?  Take  care,  if  you  have 
the  boldness  to  come  back  again." 

The  painful  grip  led  him  through  the  sounding  corridor  — 
the  glass  door  rattled,  and  Johannes  stood  outside,  under  the 
dark,  lowering  clouds. 

He  did  not  cry  now,  but  gazed  quietly  out  in  front  of  him 
as  he  slowly  walked  on.  The  sorrowful  wrinkles  were  deeper 
above  his  eyes,  and  they  stayed  there. 

The  little  redbreast  sat  in  a  linden  hedge  and  peered  at  him. 
He  stood  still  and  silently  returned  the  look.  But  there  was 
no  trust  now  in  the  timid,  peeping  little  eyes;  and  when  he 
took  a  step  nearer,  the  quick  little  creature  whirred  away 
from  him. 

"Away,  away!  A  human  being!"  chirped  the  sparrows, 
sitting  together  in  the  garden  path.  And  they  darted  away 
in  all  directions. 

The  open  flowers  did  not  smile,  but  looked  serious  and  in- 
different; as  they  do  with  every  stranger. 

Johannes  did  not  heed  these  signs,  but  was  thinking  of  what 
the  cruel  men  had  done  to  him.  He  felt  as  if  his  inmost  being 
had  been  violated  by  a  hard,  cold  touch.     "They  shall  believe 


THEQUEST  75 

me!"  thought  he.  "I  will  get  my  little  key  and  show  it  to 
them." 

"Johannes!  Johannes!"  called  a  light,  little  voice.  There 
was  a  bird's  nest  in  a  holly  tree,  and  Wistik's  big  eyes  peeped 
over  the  brim  of  it.     "Where  are  you  bound  for.?" 

"It  is  all  your  fault,  Wistik,"  said  Johannes.  "Let  me 
alone." 

"How  did  you  come  to  talk  about  it  to  human  beings? 
They  do  not  understand.  Why  do  you  tell  them  these  things  ? 
It  is  very  stupid  of  you." 

"They  laughed  at  me,  and  hurt  me.  They  are  miserable 
creatures.     I  hate  them!" 

"No,  Johannes,  you  love  them." 

"No!     No!" 

"If  you  did  not,  you  would  not  mind  it  so  much  that  they 
are  not  like  yourself;  and  it  would  not  matter  what  they  said. 
You  must  concern  yourself  less  about  human  beings," 

"I  want  my  key.     I  want  to  show  it  to  them." 

"You  must  not  do  that;  they  would  not  believe  you  even  if 
you  did.     What  would  be  the  use  of  it  ?" 

"I  want  my  little  key  —  under  the  rose-bush.  Do  you 
know  how  to  find  it?" 

"Yes,  indeed!     Near  the  pond,  is  it  not  ?     Yes,  I  know." 

"Then  take  me  to  it,  Wistik." 

Wistik  climbed  up  to  Johannes'  shoulder,  and  pointed  out 
the  way.  They  walked  the  whole  day  long.  The  wind  blew, 
and  now  and  then  showers  fell;  but  at  evening  the  clouds 
ceased  driving,  and  lengthened  themselves  out  into  long  bands 
of  gray  and  gold. 

When  they  came  to  Johannes'  own  dunes,  he  felt  deeply 
moved,  and  he  whispered  again  and  again:  "Windekind! 
Windekind!" 

There  was  the  rabbit-hole,  and  the  slope  against  which  he 
had  once  slept.  The  grey  reindeer-moss  was  tender  and 
moist,  and  did  not  crackle  beneath  his  feet.  The  roses 
were   withered,  and    the    yellow   primroses    with    their    faint, 


76  THEQUEST 

languid  fragrance  held  up  their  cups  by  hundreds.  Higher 
still  rose  the  tall,  proud  torch-plants,  with  their  thick,  velvety 
leaves. 

Johannes  tried  to  trace  the  delicate,  brownish  leaves  of  the 
w^ild-rose. 

"Where  is  it,  Wistik  ?     I  do  not  see  it." 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Wistik.  "You  hid  the 
key  —  I  didn't." 

The  field  where  the  rose  had  blossomed  was  full  of 
primroses,  staring  vacantly.  Johannes  questioned  them,  and 
also  the  torch-plants.  They  w^ere  much  too  proud,  however, 
for  their  tall  flower-clusters  reached  far  up  above  him;  so  he 
asked  the  small,  tri-colored  violets  on  the  sandy  ground. 

But  no  one  knew  anything  of  the  wild-rose.  They  all  were 
newly-come  flowers  —  even  the  arrogant  torch-plant,  tall 
though  it  was. 

"Oh!  where  is  it  ?     Where  is  it .?" 

"Have  you,  too,  served  me  a  trick?"  cried  Wistik.  "I 
expected  it  —  that  is  always  the  way  with  human  beings!" 

He  slipped  down  from  Johannes'  shoulder,  and  ran  away 
into  the  tall  grass. 

Johannes  looked  hopelessly  around.  There  stood  a  small 
rose-bush. 

"Where  is  the  big  rose  ?"  asked  Johannes,  "the  big  one  that 
used  to  stand  here?" 

"We  do  not  speak  to  human  beings,"  said  the  little  bush. 

That  was  the  last  sound  he  heard.  Every  living  thing 
kept  silence.  Only,  the  reeds  rustled  in  the  soft,  evening 
wind. 

"Am  I  a  human  being?"  thought  Johannes.  "No,  that 
cannot  —  cannot  be.  I  will  not  be  a  human  being.  I  hate 
human  beings." 

He  was  tired  and  faint-hearted,  and  went  to  the  border  of 
the  little  field  to  lie  down  upon  the  soft,  grey  moss  with  its 
humid,  heavy  fragrance. 

"I  cannot  turn  back  now,  nor  ever  see  Robinetta  again. 


THEQUEST  77 

Shall  I  not  die  without  her  ?  Shall  I  keep  on  living,  and  be  a 
man  —  a  man  like  those  who  laughed  at  me?" 

Then,  all  at  once,  he  saw  again  the  two  white  butterflies 
that  flew  up  to  him  from  the  way  of  the  setting  sun.  In 
suspense,  he  followed  their  flight.  Would  they  show  him  the 
way .?  They  hovered  above  his  head  —  then  floated  apart  to 
return  again  —  whirling  about  in  fickle  play.  Little  by  little 
they  left  the  sun,  and  finally  fluttered  beyond  the  border  of 
the  dunes  —  away  to  the  woods.  There,  only  the  highest  tips 
were  still  touched  by  the  evening  glow  that  shone  out  red 
and  vivid  from  under  the  long  files  of  sombre  clouds. 

Johannes  followed  the  butterflies.  But  when  they  had 
flown  above  the  nearest  trees,  he  saw  a  dark  shadow  swoop 
toward  them  in  noiseless  flight,  and  then  hover  over  them. 
It  pursued  and  overtook  them.  The  next  moment  they  had 
vanished.  The  black  shadow  darted  swiftly  up  to  him,  and 
he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  in  terror. 

"Well,  little  friend,  why  do  you  sit  here,  crying?"  rang  a 
sharp,  taunting  voice  close  beside  him. 

Johannes  had  seen  a  huge  bat  coming  toward  him,  but  when 
he  looked  up,  a  swarthy  mannikin,  not  much  taller  than  him- 
self, was  standing  on  the  dunes.  It  had  a  great  head,  with 
big  ears,  that  stood  out  —  dark  —  against  the  bright  evening 
sky,  and  a  lean  little  body  with  slim  legs.  Of  his  face  Jo- 
hannes could  see  only  the  small,  glittering  eyes. 

"Have  you  lost  anything,  little  fellow?  If  so,  I  will  help 
you  seek  it,"  said  he.     But  Johannes  silently  shook  his  head. 

"Look!  Would  you  like  these?"  he  began  again,  opening 
his  hand.  Johannes  saw  there  something  white,  that  from 
time  to  time  barely  stirred.  It  was  the  two  white  butterflies 
■ —  dead  —  with  the  torn  and  broken  little  wings  still  quivering. 
Johannes  shivered,  as  though  some  one  had  blown  on  the 
back  of  his  neck,  and  he  looked  up  in  alarm  at  the  strange 
being. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"Would  you  like  to  know  my  name,  Chappie?     Well,  just 


78  THEOUEST 

call  me  Pluizer  *  —  simply  Pluizer.  I  have  still  prettier 
names,  but   that  you   do   not   yet   understand." 

"Are  you  a  human  being?" 

"Better  yet!  Still,  I  have  arms  and  legs  and  a  head  — 
just  see  what  a  head!  And  yet  the  boy  asks  if  I'm  a  human 
being!  Well,  Johannes,  Johannes!"  And  the  mannikin 
laughed  with  a  shrill,  piercing  sound. 

"How  do  you  know  who  I  am  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Oh,  that  is  a  trifle  for  me!  I  know  a  great  deal  more. 
I  know  where  you  came  from,  and  what  you  came  here  to  do. 
I  know  an  astonishing  Kt  —  almost  everything." 

"Ah!     Mr.  Pluizer  .   .   ." 

"Pluizer — Pluizer.     No  ceremony!" 

"Do  you  know  then?  ..."  But  Johannes  suddenly 
stopped.      "He  is  a  human  being,"  thought  he. 

"About  your  little  key,  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  mannikin. 
"Yes,  indeed  I  do." 

"But  I  did  not  think  human  beings  could  know  anything 
about  that." 

"Silly  boy!     And  Wistik  has  babbled  to  so  many  about  it!" 

"Do  you  know  Wistik,  too  ?" 

"Oh,  yes  —  one  of  my  best  friends,  and  I  have  a  great  many 
of  them.  But  I  know  about  the  little  key,  without  the  help  of 
Wistik.  I  know  a  great  deal  more  than  Wistik.  Wistik  is  a 
good  enough  fellow,  but  stupid  —  uncommonly  stupid.  Not 
I  —  far  from  it!"  And  Pluizer  tapped  his  big  head  with  his 
lean  little  hand  in  a  very  pert  way. 

"Do  you  know,  Johannes,"  he  continued,  "a  great  defect  in 
Wistik  ?     But  you  never  must  tell  him,  for  he  would  be  very 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Johannes. 

"He  does  not  exist.  That  is  a  great  shortcoming,  but  he 
will  not  admit  it.  And  he  says  of  me  that  I  do  not  exist  — 
but  that  is  a  lie.     /  not  exist  ?     The  wiscl'icj —  I  do!" 

And  Pluizer,  thrusting  the  little  butterflies  into  his  pocket, 
suddenly  threw  himself  over,  and  stood  on  his  head  in  front  of 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


THEQUEST  79 

Johannes.  Then  he  made  a  very  ugly  grimace,  and  stuck  out 
his  long  tongue.  Johannes,  who  did  not  yet  feel  quite  at  his 
ease  alone  with  this  remarkable  creature,  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  in  the  lonely  dunes,  was  quaking  now,  with  fear. 

"This  is  a  most  charming  way  of  seeing  the  world,"  said 
Pluizer,  still  standing  on  his  head.  "If  you  like,  I  will  teach 
you  to  do  it.  Everything  looks  much  clearer  and  more  life- 
like." 

And  he  sprawled  his  spindle  legs  out  in  the  air,  and  whirled 
around  on  his  hands.  As  the  red  afterglow  fell  upon  his 
inverted  face,  Johannes  thought  it  frightful;  the  small  eyes 
blinked  in  the  light,  and  showed  the  whites  on  the  wrong 
side. 

"You  see,  this  way  the  clouds  look  like  the  floor,  and  the 
ground  the  cover,  of  the  world.  You  can  maintain  that  as 
well  as  the  contrary.  There  is  no  above  nor  below,  however. 
Those  clouds  would  make  a  fine  promenade." 

Johannes  looked  at  the  long  clouds.  He  thought  they 
appeared  like  a  plowed  field,  with  blood  welling  up  from 
the  red  furrows.  And  over  the  sea  the  splendor  was  streaming 
from  the  gates  of  that  grotto  in  the  clouds. 

"Could  one  get  there,  and  go  in  .?"  he  asked. 

"Nonsense!"  said  Pluizer,  landing  suddenly  on  his  feet 
again,  to  the  great  relief  of  Johannes.  "Nonsense!  If  you 
were  there,  it  would  be  precisely  as  it  is  here  —  and  the  beauty 
of  it  would  then  appear  still  a  little  farther  off.  In  those 
beautiful  clouds  there,  it  is  misty,  grizzly,  and  cold." 

"I  do  not  believe  you,"  said  Johannes.  "Now  I  can  very 
well  see  that  you  are  a  human  being." 

"Oh,  come!  Not  believe  me,  dear  boy,  because  I  am  a 
human  being!  And  what  particular  thing  do  you  take  your- 
self for  ?" 

"Oh,  Pluizer!     Am  I  too  a  human  being?" 

"What  did  you  suppose?  An  elf?  Elves  do  not  fall  in 
love."  And  Pluizer  suddenly  dropped  down  exactly  in  front 
of  Johannes  —  his  legs  crossed  under  him  —  grinning  straight 


8o  THEQUEST 

into  his  face.  Johannes  felt  indescribably  distressed  and  per- 
plexed under  this  scrutiny,  and  would  have  liked  to  hide,  or 
make  himself  invisible.  Still  he  could  not  even  turn  his  eyes 
away. 

"Only  human  beings  fall  in  love,  Johannes.  Do  you  hear  ? 
And  that  is  good;  otherwise  before  lono;  there  would  be  no 
more  of  them.  And  you  are  in  love  as  well  as  the  best  of  them, 
although  you  are  still  so  young.  Who  are  you  thinking  about, 
this  instant  V 

"Robinetta!"  whispered  Johannes,  barely  loud  enough  to 
be  heard. 

"Whom  do  you  long  for  most?" 

"Robinetta!" 

"Who  is  the  one  without  whom  you  think  you  cannot  live  ?" 

Johannes'  lips  moved  silently:  "Robinetta!" 

"Now,  then,  you  silly  fellow,"  sneered  Pluizer,  "how  can 
you  fancy  yourself  to  be  an  elf.''  Elves  do  not  fall  in  love  with 
the  children  of  men." 

"But  it  was  Windekind,"  stammered  Johannes,  in  his 
embarrassment.  At  that,  Pluizer  looked  terribly  angry,  and 
he  seized  Johannes  by  the  ears  with  his  bony  little  hands. 

"What  stuff  is  this?  Would  you  frighten  me  with  that 
dunce  ?  He  is  sillier  than  Wistik  —  far  more  silly.  He  does 
not  know  it,  though.  And  what  is  more,  he  does  not  exist  at 
all,  and  never  has  existed.  I  alone  exist,  do  you  understand  ? 
If  you  do  not  believe  me,  I  will  make  you  feel  that  I  Jo  exist." 

And  he  shook  poor  Johannes  by  the  ears  —  hard.  The 
latter  cried  out:  "But  I  have  known  him  so  long,  and  I  have 
traveled  so  far  with  him!" 

"You  have  dreamed  it,  I  say.  Where,  then,  are  the  rose- 
bush and  the  little  key?  Hey!  —  But  you  are  not  dreaming 
now!     Do  you  feel  that?" 

"Auch!"  cried  Johannes;  for  Pluizer  was  tweaking  his  ears. 

It  had  grown  dark,  and  the  bats  were  flying  with  shrill 
squeakings  close  to  their  heads.  The  air  was  black  and 
heavy  —  not  a  leaf  stirred  in  the  woods. 


THE    QUEST  8i 

"May  I  go  home?"  begged  Johannes.     "To  my  father?" 

"Your  father  ?  What  do  you  want  of  him  ?"  asked  Pluizer. 
"That  person  would  give  you  a  warm  reception  after  your 
long  absence!" 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  said  Johannes;  and  he  thought  of  the 
hving-room  with  the  bright  lamp-Hght,  where  he  had  so  often 
sat  beside  his  father,  hstening  to  the  scratching  of  his  pen.  It 
was  cozy  there,  and  peaceful. 

"Yes,  but  you  ought  not  to  have  gone  away,  and  stayed  away 
—  all  for  the  sake  of  that  madcap  who  has  no  existence.  It  is 
too  late  now.  And  if  nothing  turns  up  to  prevent  it,  I  will 
take  care  of  you.  Whether  I  do  it,  or  your  father  does  it, 
is  precisely  the  same  thing.  Such  a  father!  That  is  only 
imagination,  however.  Did  you  make  your  own  selection  ? 
Do  you  think  no  one  else  so  good  —  so  clever  ?  I  am  just  as 
good,  and  much  more  clever." 

Johannes  had  no  heart  for  an  answer;  he  closed  his  eyes, 
and  nodded  slightly. 

"And,"  continued  the  mannikin,  "you  must  not  look  for 
anything  further  from  that  Robinetta." 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  Johannes'  shoulders,  and  chattered 
close  to  his  ear.  "That  child  thought  you  just  as  much  a  fool 
as  the  others  did.  Did  you  not  see  that  she  stayed  in  the 
corner,  and  said  not  a  word  when  they  all  laughed  at  you  ? 
She  is  no  better  than  the  others.  She  thought  you  a  nice 
little  boy,  and  she  played  with  you  —  just  as  she  would  have 
played  with  a  May-bug.  She  cannot  have  cared  about  your 
going  away.  And  she  knows  nothing  about  that  book.  But 
I  do  —  I  know  where  it  is,  and  I  will  help  you  find  it.  I  know 
nearly  everything." 

And  Johannes  began  to  believe  him. 

"Are  you  going  with  me  ?     Will  you  search  for  it  with  me  ?" 

"I  am  so  tired,"  said  Johannes.  "Let  me  go  to  sleep 
somewhere." 

"I  care  nothing  for  sleep,"  said  Pluizer.  "I  am  too  lively 
for  that.     A  person  ought  always  to  be  looking  and  thinking. 


82  THEQUEST 

But  I  will  leave  you  in  peace  for  a  little  while  —  till  morning 
comes." 

Then  he  put  on  the  friendliest  face  he  could.  Johannes 
looked  straight  into  the  glittering  little  eyes  until  he  could  see 
nothing  else.  His  head  grew  heavy  —  he  leaned  against  the 
mossy  slope.  The  little  eyes  seemed  to  get  farther  and  farther 
away  until  they  were  shining  stars  in  the  darkening  sky.  He 
thought  he  heard  the  sound  of  distant  voices,  as  if  the  earth 
were  moving  away  from  him  —  and  then  he  ceased  to  think 
at  all. 


Even  before  he  was  fully  awake  he  had  a  vague  idea  that 
something  unusual  had  occurred  while  he  slept.  Still,  he  was 
not  curious  to  know  what  it  was,  nor  to  look  about  him.  He 
would  he  were  lapped  again  in  the  dream  which,  like  a  re- 
luctant mist,  was  slowly  drifting  away.  Robinetta  had  come 
to  him  again  in  the  dream,  and  stroked  his  hair  in  the  old  way; 
and  he  had  seen  his  father  once  more,  and  Presto,  in  the  garden 
with  the  pond. 

"Auch!  That  hurt.  Who  did  that?"  Johannes  opened 
his  eyes,  and  saw,  in  the  grey  dawn,  close  beside  him,  a  small 
being  who  had  been  pulling  his  hair.  He  was  lying  in  a  bed, 
and  the  light  was  dim  and  wavering  —  as  in  a  room. 

But  the  face  that  bent  over  him  brought  back,  at  once,  all 
the  misery  and  gloom  of  the  day  before.  It  was  Pluizer's 
face  —  less  like  a  hobgoblin,  and  more  human  —  but  just  as 
ugly  and  frightful  as  ever. 

"Oh,  let  me  dream!"  he  murmured. 

But  Pluizer  shook  him.  "Are  you  mad,  you  lazy  boy? 
Dreams  are  foolish,  and  keep  one  from  getting  on.  A  human 
being  must  work  and  think  and  seek.  That  is  what  you  are 
human  for." 

"I  do  not  want  to  be  a  human  being.     I  want  to  dream." 

"Whether  you  wish  to  or  not  —  you  must.  You  are  in  my 
charge  now,  and  you  are  going  to  act,  and  seek,  in  my  com- 
pany. With  me  alone  can  you  find  what  you  desire,  and  I 
shall  not  leave  you  until  we  have  found  it." 

Johannes  felt  a  vague  terror.  Yet  a  superior  power  seemed 
to  press  and  coerce  him.     Unresistingly,  he  resigned  himself. 

Gone  were  fields  and  flowers  and  trees.  He  was  in  a  small, 
dimly-lighted  room.  Outside,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  were 
houses  and  houses  —  dark  and  dingy  —  in  long,  monotonous 
rows. 

83 


84  THEOUEST 

Smoke  in  thick  folds  was  rising  everywhere,  and  it  swept, 
like  a  murky  fog,  through  the  streets  below.  And  along 
those  streets  the  people  hurried  in  confusion,  like  great  black 
busy  ants.  A  dull,  confused,  continuous  roar  ascended  from 
this  throng. 

"Look,  Johannes!"  said  Pluizer.  "Now  is  not  that  a  pretty 
sight  ?  Those  are  human  beings,  and  all  those  houses,  as  far  as 
you  can  see  —  still  farther  than  that  belfry  in  the  blue  dis- 
tance —  are  full  of  people,  from  top  to  bottom.  Is  not  that 
remarkable?     That  is  rather  different  from  an  ant-hill!" 

Johannes  listened  with  shrinking  curiosity,  as  if  some  huge, 
horrible  monster  were  being  shown  him.  He  seemed  to  be 
standing  on  the  back  of  that  monster,  and  to  see  the  black 
blood  streaming  through  the  swollen  arteries,  and  the  dark 
breath  ascending  from  a  hundred  nostrils.  And  the  ominous 
growling  of  that  awful  voice  filled  him  with  fears. 

"Look!  How  fast  these  people  go,  Johannes!"  continued 
Pluizer.  "You  can  see,  can  you  not,  that  they  are  all  in  a 
hurry,  and  hunting  for  something  ?  But  it  is  droll  that  no 
one  knows  precisely  what  it  is.  After  they  have  been  seeking 
a  little  while,  they  come  face  to  face  with  some  one.  His  name 
is  Hein." 

"Who  is  that?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Oh,  a  good  friend  of  mine.  I  will  introduce  you  to  him, 
without  fail.  Now  this  Hein  asks:  'Are  you  looking  for  me  ?' 
At  that,  most  of  them  usually  say:  *Oh,  no!  Not  you.' 
Then  Hein  remarks:  'But  there  is  nothing  to  be  found  save 
me.'     So  they  have  to  content  themselves  with  Hein." 

Johannes  perceived  that  he  spoke  of  death. 

"Is  that  always  the  way  —  always  ?" 

"To  be  sure  it  is  —  always.  But  yet,  day  after  day,  a  new 
crowd  gathers,  and  they  begin  their  search  not  knowing  for 
what  —  seeking,  seeking,  until  at  last  they  find  Hein.  So  it 
has  been  for  a  pretty  long  while,  and  so  it  will  continue 
to  be." 

"Shall  I,  too,  find  nothing  else,  Pluizer?    Nothing  but .  .  ." 


THEQUEST  85 

"Yes,  Hein  you  will  surely  find,  some  day.  Rut  that  does 
not  matter.     Only  seek  —  always  be  seeking. " 

"But  the  little  book,  Pluizer  ?  You  might  let  me  find  the 
book." 

"Well,  who  knows!  I  have  not  forbidden  it.  We  must 
seek  —  seek.  We  know,  at  least,  what  we  are  looking  for. 
Wistik  taught  us  that.  Others  there  are  who  try  all  their 
lives  to  find  out  what  they  are  really  seeking.  They  are  the 
philosophers,  Johannes.  But  when  Hein  comes,  it  is  all  up 
with  their  search  as  well." 

"That  is  frightful,  Pluizer!" 

"Oh,  no!  Indeed  it  is  not.  Hein  is  very  good-hearted, 
but  he  is  misunderstood." 

Some  one  toiled  up  the  stairs  outside  the  chamber  door  — 
Clump!     clump!  on  the  wooden  stairs. 

Clump!  clump!  Nearer  and  nearer.  Then  some  one 
rapped  at  the  door,  and  it  sounded  like  ice  tapping  on  wood. 

A  tall  man  entered.  He  had  deep-set  eyes,  and  long,  lean 
hands.     A  cold  draft  swept  through  the  little  room. 

"Well,  well!"  said  Pluizer.  "We  were  just  speaking  of 
you.     Take  a  seat.     How  goes  it  with  you  ?" 

"Busy,  busy!"  said  the  tall  man,  wiping  the  cold  moisture 
from  his  white,  bony  forehead. 

Stiff  with  fright,  Johannes  gazed  into  the  deep-set  eyes 
which  were  fixed  upon  him.  They  were  very  deep  and  dark, 
but  not  cruel  —  not  threatening.  After  a  few  moments  he 
breathed  more  freely,  and  his  heart  beat  less  rapidly. 

"This  is  Johannes,"  said  Pluizer.  "He  has  heard  of  a 
certain  book  which  tells  why  everything  is  as  it  is;  and  we  are 
going  together  to  find  that  book,  are  we  not  ?"  Then  Pluizer 
laughed,  significantly. 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  that  is  good,"  said  Death  kindly,  nod- 
ding to  Johannes. 

"He  is  afraid  he  will  not  find  it,  but  I  tell  him  to  seek  first, 
diligently." 

"Certainly,"  said  Death.     "It  is  best  to  seek  diligently." 


86  THEQUEST 

"He  thought  that  you  were  so  horrible!  You  see,  do  you 
not,  Johannes,  that  you  made  a  mistake?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Death,  most  kindly.  "They  speak  very  ill 
of  me.  My  outward  appearance  is  not  prepossessing,  but  I 
mean  well." 

He  smiled  faintly,  like  one  whose  mind  was  full  of  more 
serious  matters  than  those  of  which  he  spoke.  Then  he 
turned  his  sombre  eyes  away  from  Johannes,  and  they  wan- 
dered pensively  toward  the  great  town. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Johannes  ventured  to  speak.  At 
last,  he  said  softly: 

"Are  you  going  to  take  me  with  you,  now?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  my  child?"  said  Death,  roused  from 
his  meditations.  "No,  not  now.  You  must  grow  up  and 
become  a  good  man." 

"I  will  not  be  a  man  —  like  the  others." 

"Come,  come!"  said  Death.     "There  is  no  help  for  it." 

It  was  clear  that  this  was  an  every-day  phrase  with  him. 
He  continued: 

"My  friend,  Pluizer,  can  teach  you  how  to  become  a  good 
man.  It  can  be  learned  in  various  ways,  but  Pluizer  teaches 
it  excellently.  It  is  something  very  fine  and  admirable  to  be 
a  good  man.     You  must  not  scorn  it,  my  little  lad." 

"Seeking,  thinking,  looking!"  said  Pluizer. 

"To  be  sure!  To  be  sure!"  said  Death;  and  then,  to 
Pluizer,  "To  whom  are  you  going  to  take  him?" 

"To  Doctor  Cijfer,  my  old  pupil." 

"Ah,  yes.  He  is  a  good  pupil.  He  is  a  very  fine  example 
of  a  man  —  almost  perfect  in  his  way." 

"Shall  I  see  Robinetta  again  ?"  asked  Johannes,  trembling. 

"What  does  the  boy  mean  ?"  asked  Death. 

"Oh,  he  was  love-struck,  and  yet  fancied  himself  to  be  an 
elf!     He,  he,  he!"  laughed  Pluizer,  maliciously. 

"No,  my  dear  child,  that  will  never  do,"  said  Death.  "You 
will  forget  such  things  with  Doctor  Cijfer.  He  who  seeks  what 
you  are  seeking  must  forget  all  other  things.     All  or  nothing." 


THEQUEST  87 

"I  shall  make  a  doughty  man  of  him.  I  shall  just  let  him 
sec  what  love  really  is,  and  then  he  will  have  nothing  at  all  to 
do  with  it." 

And  Pluizer  laughed  gaily.  Death  again  fixed  his  black 
eyes  upon  poor  Johannes,  who  found  it  hard  to  keep  from 
sobbing;  for  he  felt  ashamed  in  the  presence  of  Death. 

Suddenly  Death  stood  up,  "I  must  away,"  said  he.  "I  am 
wasting  my  time.  There  is  much  to  be  done.  Good-by, 
Johannes.  We  are  sure  to  see  each  other  again.  You  must 
not  be  afraid  of  me." 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  you  —  I  wish  you  would  take  me  with 
you.  Oh,  take  me!"  But  Death  gently  motioned  him  back. 
He  was  used  to  such  appeals. 

"No,  Johannes.  Go  now  to  your  task.  Seek  and  see! 
Ask  me  no  more.  Some  day  I  will  ask,  and  that  will  be 
soon  enough." 

When  he  had  disappeared,  Pluizer  behaved  in  a  very  ex- 
traordinary manner.  He  sprang  over  chairs,  tumbled  about 
the  floor,  climbed  up  the  wardrobe  and  the  mantlej)iece,  and 
performed  neck-breaking  tricks  in  the  open  windows. 

"Well,  that  was  Hein  —  my  good  friend  Hein!"  said  he. 
"Do  you  not  think  him  nice?  A  bit  plain  and  morose  in 
appearance;  but  he  can  be  quite  cheerful  when  he  finds  pleasure 
in  his  Work.  Sometimes,  however,  it  bores  him;  for  it  is  rather 
monotonous." 

"Who  tells  him,  Pluizer,  v>7here  he  is  to  go  ?" 

Pluizer  leered  at  Johannes  in  a  teasing,  cunning  way. 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?  He  goes  his  own  gait  —  he  takes 
whom  he  can  catch," 

Later,  Johannes  saw  that  it  was  otherwise.  But  he  could 
not  yet  know  whether  or  not  Pluizer  always  spoke  the 
truth. 

They  went  out  to  the  street,  and  moved  v^ith  the  swarming 
throng.  The  grimy  men  passed  on,  pell-mell  —  laughing 
and  chatting  so  gaily  that  Johannes  could  not  help  wondering. 
He  noticed  that  Pluizer  nodded  to  many  of  them;  but  no  one 


88  THEQUEST 

returned  the  greeting  —  all  were  looking  straight  forward  as 
if  they  had  seen  nothing. 

"They  are  going  like  fun  now,"  said  Pluizer,  "as  though 
not  a  single  one  of  them  knew  me.  But  that  is  only  a  pretext. 
They  cannot  cut  me  when  I  am  alone  with  them;  and  then  they 
are  not  so  jolly."  Johannes  became  conscious  that  some  one 
was  following  them.  On  looking  round,  he  saw  the  tall,  pale 
figure  moving  among  the  people  with  great,  inaudible  strides. 
Hein  nodded  to  Johannes. 

"Do  the  people  also  see  him  ?"  asked  Johannes  of  Pluizer. 

"Yes,  certainly!  all  of  them;  but  they  do  not  wish  to  know 
him.     Well,  for  the  present  I  overlook  this  defiance." 

The  din  and  stir  brought  to  Johannes  a  kind  of  stupor  in 
which  he  forgot  his  troubles.  The  narrow  streets  and  the 
high  houses  dividing  the  blue  sky  into  straight  strips  —  the 
people  passing  to  and  fro  beside  him  —  the  shuffling  of  foot- 
steps, and  the  rattling  of  wagons,  effaced  the  old  visions  and 
the  dream  of  that  former  night,  as  a  storm  disturbs  the  reflec- 
tions in  mirror-like  water.  It  seemed  to  him  that  nothing 
else  existed  save  walls  and  windows  and  people;  as  if  he  too 
must  do  the  same,  and  run  and  rush  in  the  restless,  breathless 
tumult. 

Then  they  came  to  a  quiet  neighborhood,  where  stood  a 
large  house  with  grey,  gloomy  windows.  It  looked  severe 
and  uninviting.  It  was  very  quiet  within,  and  there  came  to 
Johannes  a  mingling  of  strange,  pungent  odors  —  a  damp, 
cellar-like  smell  being  the  most  perceptible.  In  a  room,  full 
of  odd-looking  instruments,  sat  a  solitary  man.  He  was  sur- 
rounded with  books,  and  glass  and  copper  articles  —  all  of 
them  unfamiliar  to  Johannes.  A  stray  sunbeam  entered  the 
room,  passed  on  over  his  head,  and  sparkled  on  the  flasks 
filled  with  pretty,  tinted  particles.  The  man  was  looking 
intently  through  a  copper  tube,   and  did   not   look   up. 

As  Johannes  came  nearer,  he  heard  him  murmur,  "Wistik! 
Wistik!" 

Beside  the  man,  on   a  long,  black  bench,  lay  something 


THEQUEST  89 

white  and  downy.  What  it  was  Johannes  could  not  clearly 
see. 

"Good  morning,  doctor!"  said  Pluizer.  But  still  the  doctor 
did  not  look  up. 

Then  Johannes  was  terrified,  for  the  white  object  at  which 
he  was  looking  so  intently,  began  all  at  once  to  struggle  con- 
vulsively. What  he  had  seen  was  the  downy,  white  breast  of 
a  little  rabbit.  Its  head,  with  the  twitching  nostrils,  was  held 
backward  by  pinching  clamps  of  iron,  and  the  four  little  feet 
were  tightly  bound  along  its  body.  The  hopeless  effort  to  free 
himself  was  soon  over,  and  the  little  creature  lay  still  again; 
the  only  sign  of  life  being  the  rapid  movement  of  the  blood- 
stained throat. 

Johannes  looked  at  the  round,  gentle  eyes  —  so  wide  open 
with  helpless  anguish,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  recognized 
them.  Was  not  this  the  soft  little  body  against  which  he  had 
rested  that  first,  blissful,  elf-land  night  ?  Old  remembrances 
came  thronging  over  him.     He  flew  to  the  little  creature. 

"W^ait,  wait!  Poor  Bunnie,  I  will  help  you!"  And  he 
hurried  to  untie  the  cords  which  were  cutting  into  the  tender 
little  feet. 

But  his  hands  were  seized  in  a  tight  grip,  and  a  shrill  laugh 
rang  in  his  ears. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Johannes  ?  Are  you  still  so  childish  ? 
What  must  the  doctor  think  of  you  .''" 

"What  does  the  boy  want?  Why  is  he  here.^"  asked  the 
doctor,  amazed. 

"He  wants  to  be  a  man,  and  so  I  brought  him  to  you;  but 
he  is  still  rather  young  and  childish.  This  is  not  the  way  to 
find  what  you  are  seeking,  Johannes!" 

"No,  this  is  not  the  way,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Doctor,  let  that  rabbit  loose!" 

But  Pluizer  clutched  both  his  hands,  and  squeezed  them 
painfully. 

"What  was  our  agreement,  Jackanapes?"  he  hissed  in  his 
ear.     "We  were  to  seek,  were  we  not?     We  are  not  in  the 


90  THEQUEST 

dunes  here,  with  Windekind,  and  with  stupid  animals.  We 
should  be  men  —  men,  do  you  understand  ?  If  you  wish  to 
remain  a  child  —  if  you  are  not  strong  enough  to  help  me  — 
I  will  send  you  out  of  the  way.  Then  you  may  seek  —  all  by 
yourself!" 

Johannes  believed  him  and  said  no  more.  He  determined 
to  be  strong.  So  he  shut  his  eyes,  that  he  might  not  see  the 
rabbit. 

"Good  boy!"  said  the  doctor.  "You  appear  somewhat 
tender-hearted  for  making  a  beginning.  It  truly  is  rather  a 
sad  sight  the  first  time.  I  never  behold  it  willingly  myself, 
and  avoid  it  as  much  as  possible.  Yet  it  is  indispensable; 
and  you  must  understand  that  we  are  men,  and  not  animals 
—  that  the  welfare  of  mankind  and  of  science  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  the  life  of  a  few  rabbits." 

"Hear!"  said  Pluizer.     "Science  and  mankind." 

"The  man  of  science,"  continued  the  doctor,  "stands  higher 
than  all  other  men,  and  so  he  should  overcome  the  little  tender- 
nesses which  the  normal  man  feels,  for  that  great  interest  — 
Science.  Would  you  like  to  be  such  a  man  ?  Was  that  your 
vocation,  my  boy?" 

Johannes  hesitated.  He  did  not  exactly  know  what  a 
vocation  was  —  no  more  than  did  the  May-bug. 

Said  he,  "I  want  to  find  the  book  that  Wistik  spoke  of." 

The  doctor  looked  surprised  and  asked,  "Wistik?" 

Pluizer  said  quickly,  "  Indeed  he  wants  to  be  such  a  man, 
Doctor!  I  know  he  does.  He  seeks  the  highest  wisdom. 
He  wishes  to  grasp  the  very  essence  of  things." 

Johannes  nodded  a  "Yes!"  So  far  as  he  understood,  that 
was  his  aim. 

"You  must  be  strong,  then,  Johannes  ^ — not  weak  and 
softhearted.  Then  I  will  help  you.  But  remember;  all  or 
nothing." 

And  with  trembling  fingers  Johannes  helped  to  retie  the 
loosened  cords  around  the  little  feet  of  the  rabbit. 


XI 

"Now,  we  shall  see,"  said  Pluizer,  "if  I  cannot  show  you  just 
as  fine  sights  as  Windekind  can." 

And  when  they  had  bidden  the  doctor  good-by  —  promising 
to  return  soon,  he  guided  Johannes  into  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  great  town.  He  showed  him  how  the  great  monster 
lived,  breathed,  and  fed  itself;  how  it  consumed,  and  again 
renewed  itself. 

But  he  was  partial  to  the  slums  and  alleys,  where  the  people 
were  packed  together  —  where  everything  was  gloomy  and 
grimy,  and  the  air  black  and  close. 

He  took  him  into  one  of  the  large  buildings  from  which 
Johannes  had  seen  the  smoke  ascending  that  first  day. 

A  deafening  roar  pervaded  the  place — everywhere  a  rattling, 
clanking,  pounding,  and  resounding.  Great  wheels  revolved, 
and  long  belts  whizzed  in  rapid  undulations.  The  walls  and 
floors  were  black,  the  windows  broken  or  covered  with  dust. 
The  mighty  chimneys  rose  high  above  the  blackened  building, 
belching  great  columns  of  curling  smoke.  In  that  turmoil 
of  wheels  and  machinery  Johannes  saw  numbers  of  pale-faced 
men  with  blackened  hands  and  clothing,  silently  and  cease- 
lessly working. 

"Who  are  they?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Wheels  —  more  wheels,"  laughed  Pluizer,  "or  human 
beings  —  as  you  choose.  What  they  are  doing  there  they  do, 
day  in  —  day  out.  And  one  can  be  human  in  that  way,  also 
—  after  a  fashion." 

They  went  on  into  dirty,  narrow  streets,  where  the  little 
strip  of  blue  sky  looked  only  a  finger's  width;  and  even  then 
was  clouded  by  the  clothes  hung  out  to  dry.  It  swarmed  with 
people  there.  They  jostled  one  another,  shouted,  laughed, 
and  sometimes  sanjr.  In  the  houses  the  rooms  were  so  small, 
so  dark  and  damp,  that  Johannes  hardly  dared  to  breathe, 

91 


92  THEQUEST 

He  saw  ragged  children  creeping  over  the  bare  floors  ;  and 
young  girls,  with  disheveled  hair,  humming  melodies  to  thin, 
pale  nurslings.  He  heard  quarreling  and  scolding,  and  all  the 
faces  around  him  were  tired,  dull,  or  indifferent. 

Johannes'  heart  was  wrung  with  pain.  It  was  not  akin  to 
his  earlier  grief —  he  was  ashamed  of  that. 

"Pluizer,"  he  asked,  "have  these  people  always  lived  here 
—  so  dreary  and  so  wretched.?  While  I  .  .  ."  He  dared 
not  go  on. 

"Certainly;  and  that  is  fortunate.  Indeed,  their  life  is  not 
so  very  dreary  and  wretched.  They  are  inured  to  this,  and 
know  nothing  better.  They  are  dull,  careless  cattle.  Do 
you  see  those  two  women  there  —  sitting  in  front  of  their 
door  ?  They  look  as  contentedly  over  the  foul  street  as  you 
used  to  look  upon  your  dunes.  There  is  no  need  for  you  to 
cry  over  these  people.  You  might  as  well  cry  about  the  moles 
that  never  see  the  daylight." 

Johannes  did  not  know  what  to  reply,  nor  did  he  know  why 
he  felt  so  sad. 

In  the  midst  of  the  clamorous  pushing  and  rushing  he  still 
saw  the  pale,  hollow-eyed  man,  striding  with  noiseless  steps. 

"He  is  a  good  man  after  all.  Do  you  not  think  so?"  said 
Pluizer,  "to  take  the  people  away  from  this  ?  But  even  here 
they  are  afraid  of  him." 

When  night  fell,  and  hundreds  of  lamps  flickered  in  the 
wind  —  casting  long,  wavering  lights  over  the  black  water, 
they  passed  through  the  silent  streets.  The  tall  old  houses 
looked  tired  —  as  if  leaning  against  one  another  in  sleep. 
Most  of  them  had  closed  their  eyes;  but  here  and  there  a  win- 
dow still  sent  out  a  faint,  yellow  glimmer. 

Pluizer  told  Johannes  long  stories  about  those  who  dwelt 
behind  them  —  of  the  pains  that  were  there  endured,  and 
of  the  struggles  that  took  place  there  between  misery  and 
love  of  life.  He  did  not  spare  him,  but  selected  the  gloomiest, 
the  lowest,  and  most  trying;  and  grinned  with  enjoyment  when 
Johannes  grew  pale  and  silent  at  his  shocking  tales. 


THEQUEST  93 

"Pluizer,"  asked  Johannes,  suddenly,  "do  you  know  any- 
thing about  the  Great  Light?" 

He  thought  that  that  question  might  save  him  from  the 
darkness  which  was  pressing  closer  and  heavier  upon  him. 

"Chatter!  Windekind's  chatter!"  said  Pluizer.  "Phan- 
toms—  illusions!  There  are  only  people  —  and  myself. 
Do  you  fancy  that  any  kind  of  god  could  take  pleasure  in 
anything  on  this  earth  —  such  a  medley  as  there  is  here  to  be 
ruled  over  ?  Moreover,  such  a  Great  Light  would  not  leave 
so  many  here  —  in  the  darkness." 

"But  those  stars!  Those  stars!"  cried  Johannes;  as  if 
expecting  that  visible  splendor  to  protest  for  him  against 
this  statement. 

"The  stars!  Do  you  know,  little  fellow,  what  you  are 
chattering  about .?  Those  lights  up  there  are  not  like  the  lan- 
terns you  see  about  you  here.  They  are  all  worlds  —  every 
one  of  them  much  larger  than  this  world  with  its  thousands 
of  cities  —  and  in  the  midst  of  them  we  swing  like  a  speck  of 
dust.  There  is  no  above  nor  below.  There  are  worlds  on 
all  sides  of  us  —  nothing  but  worlds,  and  there  is  no  end  to 
them." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Johannes  in  terror,  "do  not  say  so!  I  see 
little  lights  on  a  great,  dark  plain  above  me." 

"Yes,  you  can  see  nothing  but  little  lights.  If  you  gazed 
up  all  your  life,  you  would  see  nothing  else  than  little  lights 
upon  a  dark  plain  above  you.  But  you  can,  you  must  know 
that  the  universe  —  in  the  midst  of  which  this  little  clod  with 
its  pitiful  swarm  of  dotards  is  as  nothing  —  shall  vanish  into 
nothingness.  So  speak  no  more  of  'the  stars'  as  if  they  were 
but  a  few  dozens.     It  is  foolishness." 

Johannes  was  silenced. 

"Come  on,"  said  Pluizer.  "Now  we  will  go  to  see  some- 
thing cheerful." 

At  intervals  they  were  greeted  by  strains  of  music  in  lovely, 
lingering  waves  of  sound.  On  a  dark  canal  stood  a  large 
house,  out  of  whose  many  tall  windows  the  light  was  streaming 


94  THEQUEST 

brightly.  A  long  line  of  carriages  stood  in  front  of  it.  The 
stamping  of  the  horses  rang  with  a  hollow  sound  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night,  and  they  were  throwing  "yeses"  with  their 
heads.  The  light  sparkled  on  the  silver  trappings  of  the  har- 
ness, and  on  the  varnish  of  the  vehicles. 

Indoors,  it  was  dazzlingly  bright.  Johannes  stood  gazing, 
half-blinded,  in  the  glare  of  hundreds  of  varicolored  lights,  of 
mirrors  and  flowers. 

Graceful  figures  glided  past  the  windows,  bowing  to  one 
another,  laughing,  and  gesturing.  Far  back  in  the  room 
moved  richly  dressed  people,  with  lingering  step  or  with  rapid, 
swaying  turns.  A  confused  sound  of  laughter  and  of  cheerful 
voices,  sliding  steps  and  rustling  garments  reached  the  street, 
borne  upon  the  waves  of  that  soft,  entrancing  music  which 
Johannes  had  already  heard  from  afar.  In  the  street,  close 
by  the  windows,  stood  a  few  dark  figures,  whose  faces  only  — 
strange  and  dissimilar  —  were  lighted  by  the  splendor  at  which 
they  were  gazing  so  intently. 

"That  is  fine!  That  is  splendid!"  cried  Johannes.  He 
greatly  enjoyed  the  sight  of  the  color  and  light  and  the  many 
flowers.      "What  is  going  on  there  ?     May  we  go  in  V 

"Really,  do  you  think  this  beautiful,  too  ?  Or  perhaps  you 
would  prefer  a  rabbit-hole!  Just  look  at  the  people  —  laugh- 
ing, bowing,  and  glittering!  See  how  dignified  and  spruce  the 
men  are,  and  how  gay  and  smart  the  ladies.  And  how  de- 
voted they  are  to  the  dancing,  as  though  it  were  the  most  im- 
portant matter  in  the  world." 

Johannes  thought  again  of  the  ball  in  the  rabbit-hole,  and 
he  saw  a  great  deal  that  reminded  him  of  it.  But  here  every- 
thing was  grander  and  more  brilliant.  The  young  ladies  in 
their  rich  array  seemed  to  him,  when  they  lifted  their  long 
white  arms,  and  turned  their  heads  half  aside  in  dancing,  as 
beautiful  as  the  elves.  The  servants  moved  around  majes- 
tically, offering  delicious  drinks  —  with  respectful  bows. 

"How  splendid!     How  splendid!"  cried  Johannes. 

"Very  pretty,  is  it  not  ?"  said  Pluizer.     "But  you  must  look 


THEQUEST  95 

a  little  farther  than  just  to  the  end  of  your  nose.  You  see 
nothing  now,  do  you,  but  lovely,  laughing  faces  ?  Well, 
almost  all  those  smiles  are  false  and  affected.  Those  kindly 
old  ladies  at  the  side  there  sit  like  anglers  around  a  pond;  their 
young  girls  are  the  bait,  the  gentlemen  are  the  fishes.  How- 
ever well  they  like  to  chat  together,  they  enviously  begrudge 
one  another  every  catch.  If  one  of  those  young  ladies  is  pleased, 
it  is  because  she  is  dressed  more  beautifully,  or  attracts  more 
attention  than  the  others.  And  the  pleasure  of  the  men 
chiefly  consists  in  those  bare  arms  and  necks.  Behind  all 
those  laughing  eyes  and  friendly  lips  lurks  something  quite 
different.  Even  those  apparently  obsequious  servants  are 
far  from  being  respectful.  If  it  suddenly  became  clear  what 
each  one  really  thought,  the  party  would  soon  break  up." 

And  as  Pluizer  pointed  it  out  to  him,  Johannes  plainly  saw 
the  affectation  in  faces  and  gestures;  and  the  vanity,  envy,  and 
weariness  which  peeped  from  behind  the  smiling  masks,  or 
suddenly  appeared  as  soon  as  they  were  laid  aside. 

"Well,"  said  Pluizer,  "they  must  do  as  they  think  best. 
Such  people  must  amuse  themselves,  and  this  is  the  only  way 
they  know." 

Johannes  felt  that  some  one  was  standing  behind  him,  and 
he  looked  round.  It  was  the  well-known,  tall  figure.  The 
pale  face  was  whimsically  lighted  by  the  glare,  so  that  the 
eyes  formed  large,  dark  depressions.  He  murmured  softly 
to  himself,  and  pointed  with  a  finger  into  the  lighted  palace. 

"Look!"  said  Pluizer.     "He  is  making  another  selection." 

Johannes  looked  where  the  finger  pointed.  He  saw  the  old 
lady,  even  as  she  was  speaking,  shut  her  eyes  and  put  her 
hand  to  her  head,  and  the  beautiful  young  girl  stay  her  slow 
step,  and  stare  before  her  with  a  slight  shiver. 

"When  .?"  asked  Pluizer  of  Death. 

"That  is  my  affair,"  said  the  latter. 

"I  should  like  to  show  Johannes  this  same  company  still 
another  time,"  said  Pluizer,  with  a  wink  and  a  grin.  "May 
I?" 


96  THEQUEST 

"To-night?"  asked  Death. 

"Why  not?"  said  Pluizer.  "In  that  place  is  neither  hour 
nor  time.  What  now  is  has  always  been,  and  what  is  to  be, 
already  is." 

"I  cannot  go  with  you,"  said  Death.  "I  have  too  much  to 
do;  but  speak  the  name  that  we  both  know,  and  you  can  find 
the  way  without  me." 

They    went    on  —  some    distance  —  through     the    lonely 
streets,  where  the  gas-lights  flickered  in  the  night  wind,  and 
the  dark,  cold  water  rippled  along  the  sides  of  the  canal.     The 
soft  music  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  died  away  in  the  . 
great  calm  that  rested  upon  the  city. 

Suddenly  there  rang  out  from  on  high,  with  full  metallic 
reverberation,  a  loud  and  festive  melody. 

It  dropped  straight  down  from  the  tall  tower  upon  the 
sleeping  town  —  into  the  sad,  overshadowed  spirit  of  Little 
Johannes.  Surprised,  he  looked  up.  The  melody  of  the 
clock  continued,  in  calm  clear  tones  which  jubilantly  rose, 
and  sharply  broke  the  deathly  stillness.     Those  blithe  notes 

—  that  festal  song  —  seemed  strange  to  him  in  the  midst  of 
still  sleep  and  dark  sorrow. 

"That  is  the  clock,"  said  Pluizer.  "It  is  always  just  as 
jolly  —  year  in,  year  out.  Every  hour,  it  sings  the  selfsame 
song,  with  the  same  vim  and  gusto.  In  the  night  time,  it 
sounds  jollier  than  it  does  in  the  daytime;  as  if  the  clock  were 
glad  it  has  no  need  of  sleep  —  that  it  can  always  sing  just  as 
happily  when  thousands  are  weeping  and  suffering.  But  it 
sings  most  merrily  whenever  any  one  is  dead." 

Still  again  the  joyful  sound  rang  out. 

"One  day,  Johannes,"  continued  Pluizer,  "in  a  quiet  room 
behind  such  a  window  as  that,  a  feeble  light  will  be  burning 

—  a  dim  and  flickering  light  —  making  the  shadows  waver 
on  the  wall.  There  will  be  no  sound  in  the  room  save  now 
and  then  a  soft,  suppressed  sob.  A  bed  will  be  standing 
there,  with  white  curtains,  and  long  shadows  in  the  folds.  In 
that   bed   something  will  be  lying  —  white  and   still.     That 


THEQUEST  97 

will  have  been  Little  Johannes.  Then  joyously  will  that 
selfsame  song  break  out  and  loudly  and  lustily  enter  the  room 
to  celebrate  the  hour  of  his  decease." 

Separated  by  long  intervals,  twelve  heavy  strokes  resounded 
through  the  air.  Johannes  felt  at  once  as  if  he  were  in  a 
dream;  he  no  longer  walked,  but  floated  a  little  way  above  the 
street,  his  hand  in  Pluizer's.  The  houses  and  lamp-posts 
sped  by  in  rapid  flight.  The  houses  stood  less  close  together 
now.  They  formed  broken  rows,  with  dark  mysterious  gaps 
between,  where  the  gas-lamps  lighted  pits  and  pools,  rubbish 
and  rafters,  in  a  capricious  way.  At  last  came  a  large  gate- 
way with  heavy  columns  and  a  high  railing.  As  quick  as  a 
wink  they  were  over  it,  and  down  upon  some  damp  grass,  near 
a  big  heap  of  sand.  Johannes  fancied  he  was  in  a  garden, 
for  he  heard  around  them  the  rustling  of  trees. 

"Now  pay  attention,  Johannes,  and  then  insist,  if  you  can, 
that  I  am  not  able  to  do  more  than  Windekind." 

Then  Pluizer  called  aloud  a  short  and  doleful  name  which 
made  Johannes  shudder.  From  all  sides,  the  sound  re- 
echoed in  the  darkness,  and  the  wind  bore  it  up  whistling  and 
whirling  until  it  died  away  in  the  upper  air. 

Then  Johannes  noticed  that  the  grass-blades  reached  above 
his  head,  and  that  the  small  pebble  which  until  now  lay  at  his 
feet  was  in  front  of  his  face. 

Near  him,  Pluizer  —  just  as  small  as  himself — grasped 
the  stone  with  both  hands,  and,  exerting  all  his  strength, 
turned  it  over.  Confused  cries  of  shrill,  high-pitched  little 
voices  rose  up  from  the  cleared  ground. 

"Hey!  Who  is  doing  that?  What  does  that  mean? 
Blockhead!"  shouted  the  voices. 

Johannes  saw  black  objects  running  hurriedly  past  one 
another.  He  recognized  the  brisk  black  tumble-bug,  the 
shining  brown  earwig  with  his  fine  pinchers,  big  humpbacked 
ants,  and  snake-like  millipedes. 

In  the  middle  of  them  a  long  earth-worm  pulled  himself, 
quick  as  lightning,  back  into  his  hole. 


98  THEQUEST 

Pluizer  tore  impatiently  through  the  raving,  scolding  crowd 
up  to  the  worm-hole. 

"Hey,  there!  you  long,  naked  lout!  Come  to  daylight  with 
your  pointed  red  nose,"  he  cried. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  worm,  out  of  the 
depths. 

"You  must  come  out  because  I  want  to  go  in.  Do  you 
hear?     You  bald  dirt-eater!" 

The  worm  stretched  his  pointed  head  cautiously  out  of  the 
opening,  felt  all  around  with  it  a  number  of  times,  and  then 
slowly  dragged  his  bare,  ringed  body  farther  toward  the  surface. 

Pluizer  looked  round  at  the  other  creatures  that  were 
crowding  about  him  in  their  curiosity. 

"One  of  you  go  before  us  to  light  the  way.  No,  Black- 
beetle,  you  are  too  big;  and  you,  with  the  thousand  feet  — 
you  would  make  me  dizzy.  Hey,  there,  Earwig,  I  fancy 
your  looks!  Come  along,  and  carry  the  light  in  your  pincers. 
Bundle  away,  Black-beetle,  and  look  around  for  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp,  or  bring  a  torch  of  rottenwood." 

The  creatures,  awed  by  his  commanding  voice,  obeyed 
him. 

Then  they  went  down  into  the  worm-hole  —  the  earwig  in 
front  with  the  shining  wood,  then  Pluizer,  then  Johannes. 
It  was  a  very  dark  and  narrow  passage.  Johannes  saw  the 
grains  of  sand  dimly  lighted  by  the  faint  bluish  flicker  of  the 
torch.  They  looked  as  large  as  stones  —  half  polished,  and 
rubbed  to  a  smooth,  firm  wall  by  the  body  of  the  worm,  who 
now  followed,  full  of  curiosity.  Johannes  sav/  behind  him  its 
pointed  head  —  now  thrust  quickly  out  in  front,  and  then 
waiting  for  the  long  part  behind  to  pull  up  to  it. 

They  went  in  silence  a  long  way  down.  When  the  path 
became  too  steep  for  Johannes,  Pluizer  helped  him.  It 
seemed  as  if  there  never  would  be  an  end;  ever  new  sand- 
grains,  and  still  the  earwig  crept  on,  turning  and  bending 
with  the  winding  of  the  passage.  At  last  the  way  widened 
and  the  walls  fell  apart.     The  sand-grains  were  black  and 


THEQUEST  99 

wet,  forming  a  vault  above,  where  the  water  trickled  in  glisten- 
ing streaks,  and  through  which  the  roots  of  trees  were  stretched 
like  stiffened  serpents. 

Suddenly,  a  perpendicular  wall  —  high  and  black  —  rose 
up  before  Johannes'  sight,  cutting  off  everything  in  front  of 
him.     The  earwig  turned  round. 

"Hey,  ho!  Now  it  is  a  question  of  getting  behind  that. 
The  worm  knows  all  about  it;  he  is  at  home  here." 

"Come,  show  us  the  way!"  said  Pluizer. 

The  worm  slowly  pulled  its  articulate  body  up  to  the  black 
wall,  and  touched  and  tested  it.  Johannes  saw  that  it  was  of 
wood.  Here  and  there  it  was  decayed  into  brow-nish  powder. 
In  one  of  these  places  the  worm  bored  through,  and  with  three 
push-and-pulls  the  long,  supple  body  slipped  within. 

"Now  you!"  said  Pluizer,  and  he  shoved  Johannes  into  the 
little  round  opening.  For  an  instant,  the  latter  thought  he 
should  be  stifled  in  the  soft,  moist  mold;  then  he  felt  his 
head  free,  and  with  some  trouble  he  w^orked  his  way  com- 
pletely through.  A  large  space  appeared  to  lie  beyond.  The 
floor  was  hard  and  damp  —  the  air  thick,  and  intolerably 
close.  Johannes  dared  scarcely  to  breathe,  and  waited  in 
mute  terror. 

He  heard  Pluizer's  voice.  It  had  a  hollow  ring,  as  if  in  a 
great  cellar. 

"Here,  Johannes,  follow  me." 

He  felt  the  ground  rise  up  before  him  to  a  mountain.  With 
the  aid  of  Pluizer's  hand  he  climbed  this,  in  deepest  darkness. 
He  seemed  to  be  walking  over  a  garment  that  gave  way 
under  his  tread.  He  stumbled  over  hollows  and  hillocks, 
following  Pluizer,  who  led  him  to  a  level  spot  where  he  clung 
in  place  by  some  long  stems  that  bent  in  his  hands  like  reeds. 

"Here  is  a  good  place  to  stop.     A  light!"  cried  Pluizer. 

The  dim  light  showed  in  the  distance,  rising  and  falling 
with  its  bearer.  The  nearer  it  came  and  the  more  its  faint 
glow  filled  the  space,  the  more  terrible  was  Johannes'  distress. 

The  mountain  he  had  traveled  over  was  long  and  white. 


100  THEQUEST 

The  reeds  to  which  he  was  cHnging  were  brown,  and  fell 
below  in  lustrous  rings  and  waves. 

He  recognized  the  straight  form  of  a  human  being;  and  the 
cold  level  on  which  he  stood  was  the  forehead. 

Before  him,  like  two  deep  dark  caverns,  lay  the  insunken 
eyes,  and  the  blue  light  shone  over  the  thin  nose,  and  the 
ashen  lips  opened  in  a  rigid,  dismal  death-grin. 

Pluizer  gave  a  shrill  laugh,  that  was  immediately  stifled 
by  the  damp,  wooden  walls. 

"Is  not  this  a  surprise,  Johannes?" 

The  long  worm  came  creeping  on  between  the  folds  of  the 
shroud;  it  pushed  itself  cautiously  up  over  the  chin,  and 
slipped  through  the  rigid  lips  into  the  black  mouth-hole. 

"This  was  the  beauty  of  the  ball  —  the  one  you  thought 
more  lovely  than  an  elf.  Then,  sweet  perfume  streamed 
from  her  clothes  and  hair;  then  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  lips 
laughed.     Look  notu  at  her!" 

With  all  his  terror,  there  was  doubt  in  Johannes'  eyes.  So 
soon  .?     Just  now  so  glorious  —  and  already  .    .    .  ? 

"Do  you  not  believe  me?"  sneered  Pluizer.  "A  half- 
century  lies  between  then  and  now.  There  is  neither  hour 
nor  time.  What  once  was  shall  always  be,  and  what  is  to  be 
has  already  been.  You  cannot  conceive  of  it,  but  you  must 
believe  it.  Here  all  is  truth  —  all  that  I  show  you  is  true  — 
true!     Windekind  could  not  say  that." 

And  with  a  grin  Pluizer  skipped  around  on  the  dead  face, 
performing  the  most  odious  antics.  He  sat  on  an  eyebrow, 
and  lifted  up  an  eyelid  by  the  long  lashes.  The  eye  which 
Johannes  had  seen  sparkle  with  joy  was  staring  in  the  dim 
light  —  a  dull  and  wrinkled  white. 

"Now  —  forward!"  cried  Pluizer.  "There  happens  to  be 
more  to  see." 

The  worm  appeared,  slowly  crawling  out  of  the  right  corner 
of  the  mouth;  and  the  frightful  journey  was  resumed.  Not 
back  again,  but  over  new  ways  equally  K)ng  and  dreary. 

"Now  we  come  to  an  old  one,"  said  the  earth-worm,  as  a 


THEQUEST  loi 

black  wall  again  shut  off  the  way.  "This  has  heen  here  a 
long  time." 

It  was  less  horrible  than  the  former  one.  Johannes  only 
saw  a  confused  heap,  with  discolored  bones  protruding.  Hun- 
dreds of  worms  and  insects  were  silently  busy  with  it.  The 
light  alarmed  them. 

"Where  do  you  come  from?  Who  brings  a  light  here? 
We  have  no  use  for  it!" 

And  they  sped  away  into  the  folds  and  hollows.  Yet  they 
recognized  a  fellow-being. 

"Have  you  been  next  door?"  the  worms  inquired.  "The 
wood  is  hard  yet." 

The  first  worm  answered,  "No!" 

"He  wants  to  keep  that  morsel  for  himself,"  said  Pluizer 
softly  to  Johannes. 

They  went  farther.  Pluizer  explained  things  and  pointed 
out  to  Johannes  those  whom  he  had  known.  They  came  to 
a  misformed  face,  with  staring,  protruding  eyes,  and  thick 
black  lips  and  cheeks. 

"This  was  a  stately  gentleman,"  said  he  gaily.  "You 
ought  to  have  seen  him  —  so  rich,  so  purse-proud  and  con- 
ceited.    He  retains  his  puffed-up  appearance." 

And  so  it  went  on.  Besides  these  there  were  meagre, 
emaciated  forms  with  white  hair  that  reflected  blue  in  the 
feeble  light;  and  little  children  with  large  heads  and  aged, 
wizened  faces. 

"Look!  These  have  grown  old  since  they  died,"  said 
Pluizer. 

They  came  to  a  man  with  a  full  beard,  whose  white  teeth 
gleamed  between  the  drawn  lips.  In  the  middle  of  his  fore- 
head was  a  little  round  black  hole. 

"This  one  lent  Hein  a  helping  hand.  Why  not  a  bit  more 
patient?      He  would  have  come  here  just  the  same." 

And  there  were  still  more  passages  —  recent  ones  —  and 
other  straight  forms  with  rigid,  grinning  faces,  and  motionless, 
folded  hands. 


102  THEQUEST 

"I  am  going  no  farther  now,"  said  the  earwig.  "I  do  not 
know  the  way  beyond  this." 

"Let  us  turn  back,"  said  the  worm. 

"One  more,  one  more!"  cried  Pluizer. 

So  on  they  marched. 

"Everything  you  see  exists,"  said  Pluizer  as  they  proceeded. 
"It  is  all  real.  One  thing  only  is  not  real.  That  is 
yourself,  Johannes,  You  are  not  here,  and  you  cannot  be 
here." 

And  he  burst  out  laughing  as  he  saw  the  frightened  and 
vacant  look  on  Johannes'  face  at  this  sally. 

"This  is  the  last  —  actually  the  last." 

"The  way  stops  short  here.  I  will  go  no  farther,"  said  the 
earwig,  peevishly. 

"Well,  /  mean  to  go  farther,"  said  Pluizer;  and  where  the 
way  ended  he  began  digging  with  both  hands. 

"Help  me,  Johannes!"  Without  resistance  Johannes  sadly 
obeyed,  and  began  scooping  up  the  moist,  loose  earth. 

They  drudged  on  in  silence  until  they  came  to  the  black 
wood. 

The  worm  had  drawn  in  its  ringed  head,  and  backed  out  of 
sight.     The  earwig  dropped  the  light  and  turned  away. 

"They  cannot  get  in  —  the  wood  is  too  new,"  said  he,  re- 
treating. 

"I  shall!"  said  Pluizer,  and  with  his  crooked  fingers  he  tore 
long  white  cracking  splinters  out  of  the  wood. 

A  fearful  pressure  lay  on  poor  Johannes.  Yet  he  had  to 
do  it  —  he  could  not  resist. 

At  last,  the  dark  space  was  open.  Pluizer  snatched  the 
light  and  scrambled  inside. 

"Here,  here!"  he  called,  and  ran  toward  the  other  end. 

But  when  Johannes  had  come  as  far  as  the  hands,  that 
lay  folded  upon  the  breast,  he  was  forced  to  stop.  He  stared 
at  the  thin,  white  fingers,  dimly  lighted  on  the  upper  side. 
He  recognized  them  at  once.  He  knew  the  form  of  the  fingers 
and  the  creases  in  them,  as  well  as  the  shape  of  the  long  nails 


THEQUEST  103 

now  dark  and  discolored.  He  recognized  a  brown  spot  on 
the  forefinger. 

They  were  his  own  hands. 

"Here,  here!"  called  Pluizer  from  the  head.  "Look!  do 
you  know  him  ?" 

Poor  Johannes  tried  to  stand  up,  and  go  to  the  light  that 
beckoned  him,  but  his  strength  gave  way.  The  little  light 
died  into  utter  darkness,  and  he  fell  senseless. 


XII 

He  had  sunk  into  a  deep  sleep  —  to  depths  where  no  dreams 
come. 

In  slowly  rising  from  those  shades  to  the  cool  grey  morning 
light,  he  passed  through  dreams,  varied  and  gentle,  of  former 
times.  He  awoke,  and  they  glided  from  his  spirit  like  dew- 
drops  from  a  flower.  The  expression  of  his  eyes  was  calm 
and  mild  while  they  still  rested  upon  the  throngs  of  lovely 
images. 

Yet,  as  if  shunning  the  glare  of  day,  he  closed  his  eyes  to 
the  light.  He  saw  again  what  he  had  seen  the  morning  before. 
It  seemed  to  him  far  away,  and  long  ago;  yet  hour  by  hour 
there  came  back  the  remembrance  of  everything  —  from  the 
dreary  dawn  to  the  awful  night.  He  could  not  believe  that  all 
those  horrible  things  had  occurred  in  a  single  day;  the  begin- 
ning of  his  misery  seemed  so  remote  —  lost  in  grey  mists. 

The  sweet  dreams  faded  away,  leaving  no  trace  behind. 
Pluizer  shook  him,  and  the  gloomy  day  began  —  dull  and 
colorless  —  the  forerunner  of  many,  many  others. 

Yet  what  he  had  seen  the  night  before  on  that  fearful  journey 
stayed  in  his  mind.     Had  it  been  only  a  frightful  vision  ? 

When  he  asked  Pluizer  about  it,  shyly,  the  latter  looked  at 
him  queerly  and  scoffingly. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

Johannes  did  not  see  the  leer  in  his  eye,  and  asked  if  it  had 
really  happened  —  he  still  saw  it  all  so  sharp  and  clear. 

"How  silly  you  are,  Johannes!  Indeed,  such  things  as 
that  can  never  happen." 

Johannes  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

"We  will  soon  put  you  to  work;  and  then  you  will  ask  no 
more  such  foolish  questions." 

So  they  went  to  Doctor  Cijfer,  who  was  to  help  Johannes 
find  what  he  was  seeking. 

104 


THEQUEST  105 

While  in  the  crowded  street,  Pluizer  suddenly  stood  still, 
and  pointed  out  to  Johannes  a  man  in  the  throng. 

"Do  you  remember  him?"  asked  Pluizer,  bursting  into  a 
laugh  when  Johannes  grew  pale  and  stared  at  the  man  in 
horror. 

He  had  seen  him  the  night  before  —  deep  under  the 
ground. 

The  doctor  received  them  kindly,  and  imparted  his  wisdom 
to  Johannes  who  listened  for  hours  that  day,  and  for  many 
days  thereafter. 

The  doctor  had  not  yet  found  what  Johannes  was  seeking; 
but  was  very  near  it,  he  said.  He  would  take  Johannes  as 
far  as  he  himself  had  gone,  and  then  together  they  would 
surely  find  it. 

Johannes  listened  and  learned,  diligently  and  patiently, 
day  after  day  and  month  after  month.  He  felt  little  hope, 
yet  he  comprehended  that  he  must  go  on,  now,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible. He  thought  it  strange  that,  seeking  the  light,  the  farther 
he  went  the  darker  it  grew.  Of  all  he  learned,  the  beginning 
was  the  best;  but  the  deeper  he  penetrated  the  duller  and 
darker  it  became.  He  began  with  plants  and  animals  —  with 
everything  about  him  —  and  if  he  looked  a  long  while  at  them, 
they  turned  to  figures.  Everything  resolved  itself  into  figures 
—  pages  full  of  them.  Doctor  Cijfer  thought  that  fine,  and 
he  said  the  figures  brought  light  to  him;  —  but  it  was  darkness 
to  Johannes. 

Pluizer  never  left  him,  and  pressed  and  urged  him  on,  if  he 
grew  disheartened  and  weary.  He  spoiled  for  him  every 
moment  of  enjoyment  or  admiration. 

Johannes  was  amazed  and  delighted  as  he  studied  and  saw 
how  exquisitely  the  flowers  were  constructed;  how  they  formed 
the  fruit,  and  how  the  insects  unwittingly  aided  the  work. 

"That  is  wonderful,"  said  he.  "How  exactly  everything 
is  calculated,  and  deftly,  delicately  formed!" 

"Yes,  amazingly  formed,"  said  Pluizer.  "It  is  a  pity  that 
the  greater  part  of  that  deftness  and  fineness  comes  to  naught. 


io6  THEQUEST 

How  many  flowers  bring  forth  fruit,  and  how  many  seeds  grow 
to  be  trees  ?" 

"But  yet  everything  seems  to  be  made  according  to  a  great 
plan,"  said  Johannes.  "Look!  the  bees  seek  honey  for  their 
own  use,  and  do  not  know  that  they  are  aiding  the  flowers;  and 
the  flowers  allure  the  bees  by  their  color.  It  is  a  plan,  and 
they  both  unfold  it,  without  knowing  it." 

"That  is  fine  in  sound,  but  it  fails  in  fact.  When  the  bees 
get  a  chance  they  bite  a  hole  deep  down  in  the  flower,  and 
upset  the  whole  intricate  arrangement.  A  cunning  craftsman 
that,  to  let  a  bee  make  sport  of  him!" 

And  when  he  came  to  the  study  of  men  and  animals  —  their 
wonderful  construction  —  matters  went  still  worse. 

In  all  that  looked  beautiful  to  Johannes,  or  ingenious, 
Pluizer  pointed  out  the  incompleteness  and  defects.  He 
showed  him  the  great  army  of  ills  and  sorrows  that  can  assail 
mankind  and  animals,  with  preference  for  the  most  loathe- 
some  and  most  hideous. 

"That  designer,  Johannes,  was  very  cunning,  but  in  every- 
thing he  made  he  forgot  something,  and  man  has  a  busy  time 
trying  as  far  as  possible  to  patch  up  those  defects.  Just  look 
about  you!  An  umbrella,  a  pair  of  spectacles  —  even  clothing 
and  houses  —  everything  is  human  patchwork.  The  design 
is  by  no  means  adhered  to.  But  the  designer  never  considered 
that  people  could  have  colds,  and  read  books,  and  do  a  thou- 
sand other  things  for  which  his  plan  was  worthless.  He  has 
given  his  children  swaddling-clothes  without  reflecting  that 
they  would  outgrow  them.  By  this  time  nearly  all  men  have 
outgrown  their  natural  outfits.  Now  they  do  everything  for 
themselves,  and  have  absolutely  no  further  concern  with  the 
designer  and  his  scheme.  Whatever  he  has  not  given  them 
they  saucily  and  selfishly  take;  and  when  it  is  obviously  his 
will  that  they  should  die,  they  sometimes,  by  various  devices, 
evade  the  end." 

"But  it  is  their  own  fault!"  cried  Johannes.  "Why  do 
they  wilfully  withdraw  from  nature?" 


THEQUEST  107 

"Oh,  stupid  Johannes!  If  a  nursemaid  lets  an  innocent 
child  play  with  fire,  and  the  child  is  burned,  who  is  to  blame  ? 
The  ignorant  child,  or  the  maid  who  knew  that  the  child 
would  burn  itself?  And  who  is  at  fault  if  men  go  astray  from 
nature,  in  pain  and  misery  ?  Themselves,  or  the  All-wise 
Designer,  to  whom  they  are  as  ignorant  children?" 

"But  they  are  not  ignorant.     They  know   ..." 

"Johannes,  if  you  say  to  a  child,  'Do  not  touch  that  fire;  it 
will  hurt,'  and  then  the  child  does  touch  it,  because  it  knows 
not  what  pain  is,  can  you  claim  freedom  from  blame,  and  say, 
'The  child  was  not  ignorant?'  You  knew  when  you  spoke, 
that  it  would  not  heed  your  warning.  Men  are  as  foolish  and 
stupid  as  children.  Glass  is  fragile  and  clay  is  soft;  yet  He 
who  made  man,  and  considered  not  his  folly,  is  like  him  who 
makes  weapons  of  glass,  careless  lest  they  break  —  or  bolts 
of  clay,  not  expecting  them  to  bend." 

These  words  fell  upon  Johannes'  soul  like  drops  of  liquid 
fire,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  a  great  grief  that  supplanted 
the  former  sorrow,  and  often  caused  him  to  weep  in  the  still, 
sleepless  hours  of  the  night. 

Ah,  sleep!  sleep!  There  came  a  time  after  long  days  when 
sleep  was  to  him  the  dearest  thing  of  all.  In  sleep  there  was 
no  thinking  —  no  sorrow;  and  his  dreams  always  carried  him 
back  to  the  old  life.  It  seemed  delightful  to  him,  as  he  dreamed 
of  it;  yet,  by  day  he  could  not  remember  how  things  had  been. 
He  only  knew  that  the  sadness  and  longing  of  earlier  times 
were  better  than  the  dull,  listless  feeling  of  the  present.  Once 
he  had  grievously  longed  for  Windekind  —  once  he  had  waited, 
hour  after  hour,  on  Robinetta.  How  delightful  that  had 
been! 

Robinetta!  Was  he  still  longing?  The  more  he  learned, 
the  less  he  longed  —  because  that  feeling,  also,  was  dissected, 
and  Pluizer  explained  to  him  what  love  really  was.  Then  he 
was  ashamed,  and  Doctor  Cijfer  said  that  he  could  not  yet 
reduce  it  to  figures,  but  that  very  soon  he  would  be  able  to. 
And  thus  it  grew  darker  and  darker  about  Little  Johannes. 


io8  THEQUEST 

He  had  a  faint  feeling  of  gratitude  that  he  had  not  recog- 
nized Robinetta  on  his  awful  journey  with  Pluizer. 

When  he  spoke  of  it,  Pluizer  said  nothing,  but  laughed 
slyly;  and  Johannes  knew  that  he  had  not  been  spared  this 
out  of  pity. 

When  Johannes  was  neither  learning  nor  working,  Pluizer 
made  use  of  the  hours  in  showing  him  the  people.  He  took 
him  everywhere;  into  the  hospitals  where  lay  the  sick  —  long 
rows  of  pale,  wasted  faces,  with  dull  or  suffering  expressions. 
In  those  great  wards  a  frightful  silence  reigned,  broken  only 
by  coughs  and  groans.  And  Pluizer  pointed  out  to  him  those 
who  never  again  would  leave  those  halls.  And  when,  at  a 
fixed  hour,  streams  of  people  poured  into  the  place  to  visit 
their  sick  relations,  Pluizer  said:  "Look!  These  all  know 
that  they  too  will  sometime  enter  this  gloomy  house,  to  be 
borne  away  from  it  in  a  black  box." 

"How  can  they  ever  be  cheerful  ?"  thought  Johannes. 

And  Pluizer  took  him  to  a  tiny  upper  room,  pervaded  with 
a  melancholy  twilight,  where  the  distant  tones  of  a  piano  in  a 
neighboring  house  came,  dreamily  and  ceaselessly.  There, 
among  the  other  patients,  Pluizer  showed  him  one  who  was 
staring  in  a  stupid  way  at  a  narrow  sunbeam  that  slowly 
crept  along  the  wall. 

"Already  he  has  lain  there  seven  long  years,"  said  Pluizer. 
"He  was  a  sailor,  and  has  seen  the  palms  of  India,  the  blue 
seas  of  Japan,  and  the  forests  of  Brazil,  During  all  the  long 
days  of  those  seven  long  years  he  has  amused  himself  with 
that  little  sunbeam  and  the  piano-playing.  He  cannot  ever 
go  away,  and  may  still  be  here  for  seven  more  years." 

After  this,  Johannes'  most  dreadful  dream  was  of  waking 
in  that  little  room  —  in  the  melancholy  twilight  —  with  those 
far-away  sounds,  and  nothing  ever  more  to  see  than  the  waning 
and  waxing  light. 

Pluizer  took  him  also  into  the  great  cathedrals,  and  let  him 
listen  to  what  was  being  said  there.  He  took  him  to  festi- 
vals, to  great  ceremonies,  and  into  the  heart  of  many  homes. 


THEQUEST  109 

Johannes  learned  to  know  men,  and  sometimes  it  happened 
that  he  was  led  to  think  of  his  former  life;  of  the  fairy-tales  that 
Windekind  had  told  him,  and  of  his  own  adventures.  There 
were  men  who  reminded  him  of  the  glow-worm  who  fancied 
he  saw  his  deceased  companions  in  the  stars  —  or  of  the  May- 
bug  who  was  one  day  older  than  the  other,  and  who  had  said 
so  much  about  a  calling.  And  he  heard  tales  which  made 
him  think  of  Kribblegauw,  the  hero  of  the  spiders;  or  of  the 
eel  who  did  nothing,  and  yet  was  fed  because  a  fat  king  was 
most  desired.  He  likened  himself  to  the  young  May-bug 
who  did  not  know  what  a  calling  was,  and  who  flew  into  the 
light.  He  felt  as  if  he  also  were  creeping  over  the  carpet, 
helpless  and  maimed,  with  a  string  around  his  body  —  a 
cutting  string  that  Pluizer  was  pulling  and  twitching. 

Ah!  he  would  never  again  find  the  garden!  When  would 
the  heavy  foot  come  and  crush  him  ? 

Pluizer  ridiculed  him  whenever  he  spoke  of  Windekind, 
and,  gradually,  he  began  to  believe  that  Windekind  had  never 
existed. 

"  But,  Pluizer,  is  there  then  no  little  key  ?  Is  there  nothing 
at  all?" 

"Nothing,  nothing.  Men  and  figures.  They  are  all  real 
■ — they  exist  —  no  end  of  figures!" 

"Then  you  have  deceived  me,  Pluizer!  Let  me  leave  off' 
—  do  not  make  me  seek  any  more  —  let  me  alone!" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  what  Death  said .''  You  were  to 
become  a  man  —  a  complete  man." 

"I  will  not  —  it  is  dreadful!" 

"You  must  —  you  have  made  your  choice.  Just  look  at 
Doctor  Cijfer.  Does  he  find  it  dreadful  ?  Grow  to  be  like 
him." 

It  was  quite  true.  Doctor  Cijfer  always  seemed  calm  and 
happy.  Untiring  and  imperturbable,  he  went  his  way  — 
studying  and  instructing,  contented  and  even-tempered. 

"Look  at  him,"  said  Pluizer.  "He  sees  all,  and  yet  sees 
nothing.      He   looks   at   men   as   if  he   himself  were   another 


no  THE    QUEST 

kind  of  being  who  had  no  concern  about  them.  He  goes 
amid  disease  and  misery  like  one  invuhierable,  and  consorts 
with  Death  Hke  one  immortal.  He  longs  only  to  understand 
what  he  sees,  and  he  thinks  everything  equally  good  that 
comes  to  him  in  the  way  of  knowledge.  He  is  satisfied  with 
everything,  as  soon  as  he  understands  it.  You  ought  to  become 
so,  too." 

"But  I  never  can." 

"That  is  true,  but  it  is  not  my  fault." 

In  this  hopeless  way  their  discussions  always  ended.  Jo- 
hannes grew  dull  and  indifferent,  seeking  and  seeking  —  what 
for  or  why,  he  no  longer  knew.  He  had  become  like  the 
many  to  whom  Wistik  had  spoken. 

The  winter  came,  but  he  scarcely  observed  it. 

One  chilly,  misty  morning,  when  the  snow  lay  wet  and 
dirty  in  the  streets,  and  dripped  from  trees  and  roofs,  he  went 
with  Pluizer  to  take  his  daily  walk. 

In  a  city  square  he  met  a  group  of  young  girls  carrying 
school-books.  They  stopped  to  throw  snow  at  one  another 
—  and  they  laughed  and  romped.  Their  voices  rang  clearly 
over  the  snowy  square.  Not  a  footstep  was  to  be  heard,  nor 
the  sound  of  a  vehicle  —  only  the  tinkling  bells  of  the  horses, 
or  the  rattling  of  a  shop  door;  and  the  joyful  laughing  rang 
loudly  through  the  stillness. 

Johannes  saw  that  one  of  the  girls  glanced  at  him,  and  then 
kept  looking  back.  She  had  on  a  black  hat,  and  wore  a  gay 
little  cloak.  He  knew  her  face  very  well,  but  could  not  think 
who  she  was.      She  nodded  to  him  —  and  then  again. 

"Who  is  that  ?     I  know  her." 

"That  is  possible.  Her  name  is  Maria.  Some  call  her 
Robinetta." 

"No,  that  cannot  be.  She  is  not  like  Windekind.  She  is 
like  any  other  girl." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  She  cannot  be  like  tjohody.  But  she  is  what 
she  is.  You  have  been  longing  to  see  her,  and  now  I  will  take 
you  to  her." 


THE    GUEST  iii 

"  No  !  I  do  not  want  to  go.  I  would  rather  have  seen 
her  dead,  like  the  others." 

And  Johannes  did  not  look  round  again,  but  hurried  on, 
muttering: 

"This  is  the  last!     There  is  nothing  —  nothing!" 


XIII 

The  clear  warm  sunlight  of  an  early  spring  morning  streamed 
over  the  great  city.  Bright  rays  entered  the  little  room  where 
Johannes  lived,  and  on  the  low  ceiling  there  quivered  and 
wavered  a  great  splash  of  light,  reflected  from  the  water  rip- 
pling in  the  moat. 

Johannes  sat  before  the  window  in  the  sunshine,  gazing  out 
over  the  town.  Its  aspect  was  entirely  altered.  The  grey 
fog  had  floated  away,  and  a  lustrous  blue  vapor  enfolded 
the  end  of  the  long  street  and  the  distant  towers.  The  slopes 
of  the  slate  roofs  glistened  —  silver-white.  All  the  houses 
showed  clear  lines  and  bright  surfaces  in  the  sunlight,  and 
there  was  a  warm  pulsing  in  the  pale  blue  air.  The  water 
seemed  alive.  The  brown  buds  of  the  elm  trees  were  big  and 
glossy,  and  clamorous  sparrows  were  fluttering  among  the 
branches. 

As  he  gazed  at  all  this,  Johannes  fell  into  a  strange  mood. 
The  sunshine  brought  to  him  a  sweet  stupor  —  a  blending  of 
real  luxury  and  oblivion.  Dreamily  he  gazed  at  the  glittering 
ripples  —  the  swelling  elm-tree  buds,  and  he  listened  to  the 
chirping  of  the  sparrows.     There  was  gladness  in  their  notes. 

Not  in  a  long  time  had  he  felt  so  susceptible  to  subtle  im- 
pressions —  nor  so  really  happy. 

This  was  the  old  sunshine  that  he  remembered.  This  was 
the  sun  that  used  to  call  him  out-of-doors  to  the  garden, 
where  he  would  lie  down  on  the  warm  ground,  looking  at  the 
grasses  and  green  things  in  front  of  him.  There,  nestled  in 
the  lee  of  an  old  wall,  he  could  enjoy  at  his  ease  the  light  and 
heat. 

It  was  just  right  in  that  light!  It  gave  that  safe-at-home 
feeling  —  such  as  he  remembered  long  ago,  in  his  mother's 
arms.  His  mind  was  full  of  memories  of  former  times,  but 
he   neither   wept   for    nor    desired    them.     He   sat    still   and 

IIZ 


THE    QUEST  113 

dreamed  —  wishing  only  that  the  sun  would  continue  to 
shine. 

"What  are  you  moping  about  there,  Johannes?"  cried 
Pluizer.     "You  know  I  do  not  approve  of  dreaming." 

Johannes  raised  his  pensive  eyes,  imploringly. 

"Let  me  stay  a  little  longer,"  said  he.    "The  sun  is  so  good." 

"What  do  you  find  in  the  sun?"  asked  Pluizer.  "It  is 
nothing  but  a  big  candle;  it  does  not  make  a  bit  of  difference 
whether  you  are  in  candle-light  or  sunlight.  Look!  see  those 
shadows  and  dashes  of  light  on  the  street.  They  are  nothing 
but  the  varied  effect  of  one  little  light  that  burns  steadily  — 
without  a  flicker.  And  that  light  is  really  a  tiny  flame,  which 
shines  upon  a  mere  speck  of  the  earth.  There,  beyond  that 
blue  —  above  and  beneath  us  —  it  is  dark  —  cold  and  dark! 
It  is  night  there  —  now  and  ever." 

But  his  words  had  no  effect  on  Johannes.  The  still  warm 
sunshine  penetrated  him,  and  filled  his  whole  being  with  light 
and  peace. 

Pluizer  led  him  away  to  the  chilly  house  of  Doctor  Cijfer. 
For  a  little  while  the  image  of  the  sun  hovered  before  his 
vision,  then  slowly  faded  away;  and  by  the  middle  of  the  day 
all  was  dark  again. 

When  the  evening  came  and  he  passed  through  the  town 
once  more,  the  air  was  sultry  and  full  of  the  stuffy  smells  of 
spring.  Everything  was  reeking,  and  he  felt  oppressed  in  the 
narrow  streets.  But  in  the  open  squares  he  smelled  the  grass 
and  the  buds  of  the  country  beyond;  and  he  saw  the  spring  in 
the  tranquil  little  clouds  above  it  all  —  in  the  tender  flush  of 
the  western  sky. 

The  twilight  spread  a  soft  grey  mist,  full  of  delicate  tints, 
over  the  town.  It  was  quiet  everywhere  —  only  a  street-organ 
in  the  distance  was  playing  a  mournful  tune.  The  buildings 
seemed  black  spectres  against  the  crimson  sky  —  their  fan- 
tastic pinnacles  and  chimneys  reaching  up  like  countless  arms. 

When  the  sun  threw  its  last  rays  out  over  the  great  town,  it 
seemed   to  Johannes  that  it  gave  him  a   kind  smile  —  kind 


114  THE    QUEST 

as  the  smile  that  forgives  a  folly.  And  the  sweet  warmth 
stroked  his  cheeks,  caressingly. 

Then  a  great  sadness  came  into  Johannes'  heart  —  so  great 
that  he  could  go  no  farther.  He  took  a  deep  breath,  and  lifted 
up  his  face  to  the  wide  heavens.  The  spring  was  calling  him, 
and  he  heard  it.  He  would  answer  —  he  would  go.  He  was 
all  contrition  and  love  and  forgiveness. 

He  looked  up  longingly,  and  tears  fell  from  his  sorrowful 
eyes. 

"Come,  Johannes!  Do  not  act  so  oddly  —  people  are 
looking  at  you,"  said  Pluizer. 

Long,  monotonous  rows  of  houses  stretched  out  on  both 
sides  —  dark  and  gloomy  —  offensive  in  the  soft  spring  air, 
discordant  in  the  spring-time  melody. 

People  sat  at  their  doors  and  on  the  stoops  to  enjoy  the 
season.  To  Johannes  it  was  a  mockery.  The  dirty  doors 
stood  open,  and  the  musty  rooms  within  awaited  their  occu- 
pants. In  the  distance  the  organ  still  prolonged  its  melan- 
choly tones. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  fly  away  —  far  away  to  the  dunes  and 
to  the  sea!" 

But  he  had  to  return  to  the  high-up  little  room;  and  that 
night  he  lay  awake. 

He  could  not  help  thinking  of  his  father  and  the  long  walks 
he  had  taken  with  him,  when  he  followed  a  dozen  steps  be- 
hind, and  his  father  wrote  letters  for  him  in  the  sand.  He 
thought  of  the  places  under  the  bushes  where  the  violets  grew, 
and  of  the  days  when  he  and  his  father  had  searched  for  them. 
All  night  he  saw  the  face  of  his  father  —  as  it  was  when  he 
sat  beside  him  evenings  by  the  still  lamplight  —  watching 
him,  and  listening  to  the  scratching  of  his  pen. 

Every  morning  after  this  he  asked  Pluizer  to  be  allowed  to 
go  once  more  to  his  home  and  to  his  father  —  to  see  once 
again  his  garden  and  the  dunes.  He  noticed  now  that  he  had 
had  more  love  for  his  father  than  for  Presto  and  for  his  little 
room,  since  it  was  of  him  that  he  asked. 


THE    QUEST  115 

"Only  tell  me  how  he  is,  and  if  he  is  still  angry  with  me  for 
staying  away  so  long." 

Pluizer  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Even  if  you  knew,  how 
would  it  help  you?" 

Still  the  spring  kept  calling  him  —  louder  and  louder.  Every 
night  he  dreamed  of  the  dark  green  moss  on  the  hillslopes,  and 
of  sunbeams  shining  through  the  young  and  tender,  verdure. 

"It  cannot  long  stay  this  way,"  thought  Johannes.  "I 
cannot  bear  it." 

And  often  when  he  could  not  sleep  he  rose  up  softly,  went  to 
the  window,  and  looked  out  at  the  night.  He  saw  the  sleepy, 
feathery  little  clouds  drifting  slowly  over  the  disk  of  the  moon 
to  float  peacefully  in  a  sea  of  soft,  lustrous  light.  He  thought 
of  the  distant  dunes  —  asleep,  now,  in  the  sultry  night  —  how 
wonderful  it  must  be  in  the  low  woods  where  not  a  leaf  would 
be  stirring,  and  where  it  was  full  of  the  fragrance  of  moist 
moss  and  young  birch-sprouts.  He  fancied  he  could  hear,  in 
the  distance  the  swelling  chorus  of  the  frogs,  which  hovered 
so  mystically  over  the  plains;  and  the  song  of  the  only  bird 
which  can  accompany  the  solemn  stillness  —  whose  lay  begins 
so  soft  and  plaintive  and  breaks  off  so  suddenly,  making  the 
silence  seem  yet  deeper.  And  it  all  was  calling  —  calling 
him.  He  dropped  his  head  upon  his  arms  on  the  window-sill, 
and  sobbed. 

"I  cannot  bear  it.     I  shall  die  soon  if  I  cannot  go." 

When  Pluizer  roused  him  the  following  morning,  he  was 
still  sitting  by  the  window,  where  he  had  fallen  asleep  with 
his  head  on  his  arm. 

The  days  passed  by  —  grew  long  and  warm  —  and  there 
came  no  change.  Yet  Johannes  did  not  die,  and  had  to  bear 
his  sorrow. 

One  morning  Doctor  Cijfer  said  to  him: 

"Come  with  me,  Johannes.     I  have  to  visit  a  patient." 

Doctor  Cijfer  was  known  to  be  a  learned  man,  and  many 
appealed  to  him  to  ward  off  sickness  and  death.  Johannes 
had  already  accompanied  him  many  times. 


ii6  THE    QUEST 

Pluizer  was  unusually  frolicsome  this  morning.  Again  and 
again  he  stood  on  his  head,  danced  and  tumbled,  and  per- 
petrated all  kinds  of  reckless  tricks.  His  face  wore  a  constant, 
mysterious  grin,  as  if  he  had  a  surprise  all  ready  for  the  spring- 
ing.    Johannes  was  very  much  afraid  of  him  in  this  humor. 

But  Doctor  Cijfer  was  as  serious  as  ever. 

They  went  a  long  way  this  morning  —  in  a  railway  train 
and  afoot.  They  went  farther  than  at  other  times,  for  Jo- 
hannes had  never  yet  been  taken  outside  the  town. 

It  was  a  warm,  sunny  day.  Looking  out  of  the  train, 
Johannes  saw  the  great  green  meadows  go  by,  with  their  long- 
plumed  grass,  and  grazing  cows.  He  saw  white  butterflies 
fluttering  above  the  flower-decked  ground,  where  the  air  was 
quivering  with  the  heat  of  the  sun. 

And,  suddenly,  he  felt  a  thrill.  There  lay,  outspread,  the 
long  and  undulating  dunes! 

"Now,  Johannes!"  said  Pluizer,  with  a  grin,  "now  you 
have  your  wish,  you  see." 

Only  half  believing,  Johannes  continued  to  gaze  at  the 
dunes.  They  came  nearer  and  nearer.  The  long  ditches  on 
both  sides  seemed  to  be  whirling  around  their  centre,  and  the 
lonely  dwellings  along  the  road  sped  swiftly  past. 

Then  came  some  trees  —  thick-foliaged  chestnut  trees, 
bearing  great  clusters  of  red  or  white  flowers  —  dark,  blue- 
green  pines  —  tall,  stately  linden  trees. 

It  was  true,  then;  he  was  going  to  see  his  dunes  once  more. 

The  train  stopped  and  then  the  three  went  afoot,  under  the 
shady  foliage. 

Here  was  the  dark-green  moss  —  here  were  the  round  spots 
of  sunshine  on  the  ground  —  this  was  the  odor  of  birch- 
sprouts  and   pine-needles. 

"Is  it  true.''  Is  it  really  true?"  thought  Johannes.  "Am 
I  going  to  be  happy  ?" 

His  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  heart  bounded.  He  began  to 
believe  in  his  happiness.  He  knew  these  trees,  this  ground; 
he  had  often  walked  over  this  wood-path. 


THE    QUEST  117 

They  were  alone  on  the  way,  yet  Johannes  felt  forced  to 
look  round,  as  though  some  one  were  following  them;  and 
he  thought  he  saw  between  the  oak  leaves  the  dark  figure  of  a 
man  who  again  and  again  remained  hidden  by  the  last  turn 
in  the  path. 

Pluizer  gave  him  a  cunning,  uncanny  look.  Doctor  Cijfer 
walked  with  long  strides,  looking  down  at  the  ground. 

The  way  grew  more  and  more  familiar  to  him  —  he  knew 
every  bush,  every  stone.  Then  suddenly  he  felt  a  sharp  pang, 
for  he  stood  before  his  own  house. 

The  chestnut  tree  in  front  of  it  spread  out  its  large,  hand- 
shaped  leaves.  Up  to  the  very  top  the  glorious  white  flowers 
stood  out  from  the  full  round  masses  of  foliage. 

He  heard  the  sound  he  knew  so  well  of  the  opening  of  the 
door,  and  he  breathed  the  air  of  his  own  home.  He  recog- 
nized the  hall,  the  doors,  everything  —  bit  by  bit  —  with  a 
painful  feeling  of  lost  familiarity.  It  was  all  a  part  of  his  life 
—   his  lonely,  musing  child-life. 

He  had  talked  with  all  these  things  —  with  them  he  had 
lived  in  his  own  world  of  thought  that  he  suffered  no  one  to 
enter.  But  now  he  felt  himself  cut  off  from  the  old  house, 
and  dead  to  it  all  —  its  chambers,  halls,  and  doorways.  He 
felt  that  this  separation  was  past  recall,  and  as  if  he  were 
visiting  a  churchyard  —  it  was  so  sad  and  melancholy. 

If  only  Presto  had  sprung  to  meet  him  it  would  have  been 
less  dismal  —  but  Presto  was  certainly  away  or  dead. 

Yet  where  was  his  father  ? 

He  looked  back  to  the  open  door  and  the  sunny  garden 
outside,  and  saw  the  man  who  had  seemed  to  be  following 
him,  now  striding  up  to  the  house.  He  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  seemed  to  grow  larger  as  he  approached.  When 
he  reached  the  door,  a  great  chill  shadow  filled  the  entrance. 
Then  Johannes  recognized  the  man. 

It  was  deathly  still  in  the  house,  and  they  went  up  the 
stairs  without  speaking.  There  was  one  stair  that  always 
creaked  when  stepped  upon  —  Johannes  knew  it.     And  now 


ii8  THE    QUEST 

he  heard  it  creak  three  times.     It  sounded  like  painful  groan- 
ings,  but  under  the  fourth  footstep  it  was  like  a  faint  sob. 

Upstairs  Johannes  heard  a  moaning  —  low  and  regular 
as  the  ticking  of  a  clock.     It  was  a  dismal,  torturing  sound. 

The  door  of  Johannes'  room  stood  open.  He  threw  a 
frightened  glance  into  it.  The  marvelous  flower-forms  of 
the  hangings  looked  at  him  in  stupid  surprise.  The  clock 
had  run  down. 

They  went  to  the  room  from  which  the  sounds  came.  It 
was  his  father's  bedroom.  The  sun  shone  gaily  in  upon 
the  closed,  green  curtains  of  the  bed.  Simon,  the  cat,  sat 
on  the  window-sill  in  the  sunshine.  An  oppressive  smell  of 
wine  and  camphor  pervaded  the  place,  and  the  low  moaning 
sounded  close  at  hand. 

Johannes  heard  whispering  voices,  and  carefully  guarded 
footfalls.     Then  the  green  curtains  were  drawn  aside. 

He  saw  his  father's  face  that  had  so  often  been  in  his 
mind  of  late.  But  it  was  very  different  now.  The  grave, 
kindly  expression  was  gone  and  it  looked  strained  and  dis- 
tressed. It  was  ashy  pale,  with  deep  brown  shadows.  The 
teeth  were  visible  between  the  parted  lips,  and  the  whites  of 
the  eyes  under  the  half-closed  eyelids.  His  head  lay  sunken 
in  the  pillow,  and  was  lifted  a  little  with  the  regularity  of  the 
moans,  falling  each  time  wearily  back  again. 

Johannes  stood  by  the  bed,  motionless,  and  looked  with 
wide,  fixed  eyes  upon  the  well-known  face.  He  did  not 
know  what  he  thought  —  he  dared  not  move  a  finger;  he  dared 
not  clasp  those  worn  old  hands  lying  limp  on  the  white  linen. 

Everything  around  him  grew  black  —  the  sun  and  the 
bright  room,  the  verdure  outdoors,  and  the  blue  sky  as  well 
—  everything  that  lay  behind  him  —  it  grew  black,  black, 
dense  and  impenetrable.  And  in  that  night  he  could  see  only 
the  pale  face  before  him,  and  could  think  only  of  the  poor 
tired  head  —  wearily  lifted  again  and  again,  with  the  groan 
of  anguish. 

Directly,  there  came  a  change  in  this  regular  movement. 


THE    QUEST  119 

The  moaning  ceased,  the  eyeHds  opened  feebly,  the  eyes 
looked  inquiringly  around,  and  the  lips  tried  to  say  something. 

"Father!"  whispered  Johannes,  trembling,  while  he  looked 
anxiously  into  the  seeking  eyes.  The  weary  glance  rested 
upon  him,  and  a  faint,  faint  smile  furrowed  the  hollow  cheeks. 
The  thin  closed  hand  was  lifted  from  the  sheet,  and  made 
an  uncertain  movement  toward  Johannes  —  then  fell  again, 
powerless. 

"Come,  come!"  said  Pluizer.     "No  scenes  here!" 

"Step  aside,  Johannes,"  said  Doctor  Cijfer,  "we  must  see 
what  can  be  done." 

The  doctor  began  his  examination,  and  Johannes  left  the 
bed  and  went  to  stand  by  the  window.  He  looked  at  the 
sunny  grass  and  the  clear  sky,  and  at  the  broad  chestnut 
leaves  where  the  big  flies  sat  —  shining  blue  in  the  sunlight. 
The  moaning  began  again  with  the  same  regularity. 

A  blackbird  hopped  through  the  tall  grass  in  the  garden 
—  great  red  and  black  butterflies  were  hovering  over  the 
flower-beds,  and  there  reached  Johannes  from  out  the  foliage 
of  the  tallest  trees  the  soft,  coaxing  coo  of  the  wood-doves. 

In  the  room  the  moaning  continued  —  never  ceasing.  He 
had  to  listen  to  it  —  and  it  came  regularly  —  as  unprevent- 
able  as  the  falling  drop  that  causes  madness.  In  suspense  he 
waited  through  each  interval,  and  it  always  came  again  — 
frightful  as  the  footstep  of  approaching  death. 

All  out-of-doors  was  wrapped  in  warm,  mellow  sunlight. 
Everything  was  happy  and  basking  in  it.  The  grass-blades 
thrilled  and  the  leaves  sighed  in  the  sweet  warmth.  Above 
the  highest  tree  tops,  deep  in  the  abounding  blue,  a  heron 
was  soaring  in  peaceful  flight. 

Johannnes  could  not  understand  —  it  was  an  enigma  to 
him.  All  was  so  confused  and  dark  in  his  soul.  "How  can 
all  this  be  in  me  at  the  same  time  ?"  he  thought. 

"  Is  this  really  I  ?  Is  that  my  father  —  my  own  father  ? 
Mine  —  Johannes'  ?" 

It  was  as  if  he  spoke  of  a  stranger.     It  was  all  a  tale  that  he 


120  THEQUEST 

had  heard.  Some  one  had  told  him  of  Johannes,  and  of  the 
house  where  he  lived,  and  of  the  father  whom  he  had  for- 
saken, and  who  was  now  dying.  He  himself  was  not  that 
one  —  he  had  heard  about  him.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  story. 
But  it  did  not  concern  himself. 

But  yes  —  yes  —  he  was  that  same  Johannes! 

"I  do  not  understand  the  case,"  said  Doctor  Cijfer,  stand- 
ing up.     "It  is  a  very  obscure  malady." 

Pluizer  stepped  up  to  Johannes. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  give  it  a  look,  Johannes?  It  is  an 
interesting  case.     The  doctor  does  not  know  it." 

"Leave  me  alone,"  said  Johannes,  without  turning  round. 
"I  cannot  think." 

But  Pluizer  went  behind  him  and  whispered  sharply  in  his 
ear,  according  to  his  wont: 

"Cannot  think!  Did  you  fancy  you  could  not  think .? 
There  you  are  wrong.  You  must  think.  You  need  not  be 
gazing  into  the  green  trees  nor  the  blue  sky.  That  will  not 
help.  Windekind  is  not  coming.  And  the  sick  man  there 
is  going  to  die.  You  must  have  seen  that  as  well  as  we. 
But  what  do  you  think  his  trouble  is  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  ^ — I  will  not  know!" 

Johannes  said  nothing  more,  but  listened  to  the  moaning 
that  had  a  plaintive  and  reproachful  sound.  Doctor  Cijfer 
was  writing  notes  in  a  little  book.  At  the  head  of  the  bed 
sat  the  dark  figure  that  had  followed  them.  His  head  was 
bowed,  his  long  hand  extended  toward  the  sufferer,  and  his 
deep-set  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  clock. 

The  sharp  whispering  in  his  ear  began  again. 

"What  makes  you  look  so  sad,  Johannes?  You  have 
your  heart's  desire  now.  There  are  the  dunes,  there  the  sun- 
beams through  the  verdure,  there  the  flitting  butterflies  and 
the  singing  birds.  What  more  do  you  w  ant  ?  Are  you  wait- 
ing for  Windekind  ?  If  he  be  anywhere,  he  must  be  there. 
Why  does  he  not  come  ?  Would  he  be  afraid  of  this  dark 
friend  at  the  bedside  ?      Yet  always  he  was  there  I  " 


THE    QUEST  121 

"Do  you  not  see,  Johannes,  that  it  has  all  been  imagina- 
tion ? 

"Do  you  hear  that  moaning?  It  sounds  lighter  than  it 
did  a  while  ago.  You  can  know  that  it  will  soon  cease  alto- 
gether. But  what  of  that  ?  There  must  have  been  a  great 
many  such  groans  while  you  were  running  around  outside 
in  the  garden  among  the  wild-roses.  Why  do  you  stay  here 
crying,  instead  of  going  to  the  dunes  as  you  used  to  .?  Look 
outside!  Flowers  and  fragrance  and  singing  everywhere 
just  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Why  do  you  not  take  part 
in  all  that  life  and  gladness  ? 

"First,  you  complained,  and  longed  to  be  here;  and  after  I 
have  brought  you  where  you  wished  to  be,  you  still  are  not 
content.  See!  I  will  let  you  go.  Stroll  through  the  high 
grass  —  lie  in  the  cool  shade  —  let  the  flies  buzz  about  you 

—  inhale  the  fragrance  of  the  fresh  young  herbs.  I  release 
you.     Go,  now!     Find  Windekind  again! 

"You  will  not  .r'  Then  do  you  now  believe  in  me  alone? 
Is  what  I  have  told  you  true  ?     Do  I  lie,  or  does  Windekind  ? 

"Listen  to  the  moans!  —  so  short  and  weak!  They  will 
soon  cease. 

"Do  not  look  so  agonized,  Johannes.  The  sooner  it  is 
over  the  better.  There  could  be  no  more  long  walks  now; 
you  will  never  again  look  for  violets  with  him.  With  whom 
do  you  think  he  has  taken  his  walks,  during  the  past  two  years 

—  while  you  were  away  ?  You  cannot  ask  him  now.  You 
never  will  know.  After  this  you  will  have  to  content  your- 
self with  me.  If  you  had  made  my  acquaintance  a  little 
earlier,  you  would  not  look  so  pitiful  now.  You  are  a  long 
way  yet  from  being  what  you  ought  to  be.  Do  you  think 
Doctor  Cijfer  in  your  place  would  look  as  you  do  ?  It  would 
make  him  about  as  sad  as  that  cat  is  —  purring  there  in 
the  sunshine.  And  it  is  well.  What  is  the  use  of  being  so 
wretched  ?  Did  the  flowers  teach  you  that  ?  They  do  not 
grieve  when  one  of  them  is  plucked.  Is  not  that  lucky  ? 
They  know  nothing,  therefore  they  are  happy.     You  have 


122  THEQUEST 

only  begun  to  know  things;  and  now  you  must  know  every- 
thing, in  order  to  be  happy.  I  alone  can  teach  you.  All  or 
nothing. 

"Listen  to  me.  What  is  the  difference  whether  that  is 
your  father  or  not  ?  He  is  a  man  who  is  dying;  that  is  a  com- 
mon occurrence. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  moaning  still  ?  Very  feeble,  is  it  not .? 
He  is  near  his  end." 

Johannes  looked  toward  the  bed  in  fearful  distress. 

Simon,  the  cat,  dropped  from  the  window-seat,  stretched 
himself,  and  curled  up  purring  on  the  bed  close  beside  the 
dying  man. 

The  poor,  tired  head  moved  no  more.  It  lay  still,  pressed 
into  the  pillow;  yet  from  the  half-open  mouth  there  still  came, 
at  intervals,  short,  exhausted  sounds. 

They  grew  softer  —  softer  —  scarcely  audible. 

Then  Death  turned  his  dark  eyes  from  the  clock  to  rest 
them  upon  the  down-sunken  head.  He  raised  his  hand  — 
and  all  was  still. 

An  ashen  shadow  crept  over  the  stiffening  face. 

Silence  —  dreary,  lonely  silence! 

Johannes  waited  —  waited. 

But  the  recurring  groans  had  ceased.  All  was  still  — 
utterly,  awfully  still. 

The  strain  of  the  long  hours  of  listening  was  suspended, 
and  it  seemed  to  Johannes  as  if  his  soul  were  released,  and 
falling  into  black  and  bottomless  depths. 

He  fell  deeper  and  deeper.  It  grew  stiller  and  darker 
around  him. 

Then  he  heard  Pluizer's  voice,  as  if  from  far  away. 

"Hey,  ho!     Another  story  told." 

"That  is  good,"  said  Doctor  Cijfer.  "Now  you  can  find 
out  what  the  trouble  was.  I  leave  that  to  you.  I  must 
away." 

While  still  half  in  a  dream,  Johannes  saw  the  gleam  of 
burnished  knives. 


THEQUEST  123 

The  cat  ruffed  up  his  back.  It  was  cold  next  the  body, 
and  he  sought  the  sunshine  again. 

Johannes  saw  Pluizer  take  a  knife,  examine  it  carefully, 
and  approach  the  bed  with  it. 

Then  Johannes  shook  off  his  stupor.  Before  Pluizer  could 
reach  the  bed  he  was  standing  in  front  of  him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked.  His  eyes  were 
wide  open  with  horror. 

"We  are  going  to  find  out  what  it  was,"  said  Pluizer. 

"No!"  said  Johannes;  and  his  voice  was  as  deep  as  a  man's. 

"What  does  that  mean  ?"  asked  Pluizer,  with  a  grim  glare. 
"Can  you  prevent  me  .''     Do  you  not  know  how  strong  I  am  ?" 

"You  shall  not!"  said  Johannes.  He  set  his  teeth  and 
drew  in  a  deep  breath,  looked  steadily  at  Pluizer,  and  tried 
to  stay  his  hand. 

But  Pluizer  persisted.  Then  Johannes  seized  his  wrists, 
and  wrestled  with  him. 

Pluizer  was  strong,  he  knew.  He  never  yet  had  opposed 
him;  but  he  struggled  on  with  a  fixed  purpose. 

The  knife  gleamed  before  his  eyes.  He  saw  sparks  and 
red  flames;  yet  he  did  not  give  in,  but  wrestled  on. 

He  knew  what  would  happen  if  he  succumbed.  He  knew, 
for  he  had  seen  before.  But  it  was  his  father  that  lay  behind 
him,  and  he  w^ould  not  let  it  happen  now. 

And  while  they  wrestled,  panting,  the  dead  body  behind 
them  lay  rigid  and  motionless  —  just  as  it  was  the  instant 
when  silence  fell  —  the  whites  of  the  eyes  visible  in  a  narrow 
strip,  the  corners  of  the  mouth  drawn  up  in  a  stiffened  grin. 
The  head,  only,  shook  gently  back  and  forth,  as  they  both 
pushed  against  the  bed  in  their  struggle. 

Still  Johannes  held  firm,  though  his  breath  failed  and  he 
could  see  nothino-.  A  veil  of  blood-red  mist  was  before  his 
eyes;  yet  he  stood  firm. 

Then,  gradually,  the  resistance  of  the  two  wrists  in  his 
grasp  grew  weaker.  His  muscles  relaxed,  his  arms  dropped 
limp  beside  his  body,  and  his  closed  hands  were  empty. 


124  THEQUEST 

When  he  looked  up  Pliiizer  had  vanished.  Death  sat, 
alone,  by  the  bed  and  nodded  to  him. 

"You  have  done  well,  Johannes,"  said  he. 

"Will  he  come  back  ?"  whispered  Johannes.  Death  shook 
his  head. 

"Never.     He  who  once  dares  him  will  see  him  no  more." 

"And  Windekind  ?     Shall  I  not  see  Windekind  again?" 

The  solemn  man  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  Johannes. 
His  regard  was  not  now  alarming,  but  gentle  and  serious,  and 
attracted  Johannes  like  a  profound  depth. 

"I  alone  can  take  you  to  Windekind.  Through  me  alone 
can  you  find  the  book." 

"Then  take  me  with  you.  There  is  no  one  left  —  take  me, 
too!     I  want  nothing  more." 

Again  Death  shook  his  head. 

"You  love  men,  Johannes.  You  do  not  know  it,  but  you 
have  always  loved  them.  You  must  become  a  good  man. 
It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  good  man." 

"I  do  not  want  that  —  take  me  with  you!" 

"You  mistake  —  you  do  want  it:  you  cannot  help  it." 

Then  the  tall,  dark  figure  grew  vague  before  Johannes'  eyes 
—  it  faded  into  a  filmy,  grey  mist  adrift  in, the  room  —  and 
passed  away  along  the  sunbeams. 

Johannes  bowed  his  head  upon  the  side  of  the  bed,  and 
sobbed  for  the  dead  man. 


XIV 

A  LONG  time  afterward,  he  lifted  up  his  head.  The  sunbeams 
shone  obHquely  in,  bringing  a  rosy  glow.  They  resembled 
straight  bars  of  gold. 

"Father,  father!"  whispered  Johannes. 

Outside,  the  sun  was  pouring  over  everything  a  flood  of 
shining,  golden,  glowing  splendor.  Every  leaf  hung  motion- 
less, and  all  was  hushed  in  solemn  worship  of  the  sun. 

Along  with  the  light  there  fell  into  the  room  a  gentle  sough- 
ing —  as  if  the  sunbeams  were  singing. 

"Sun-son!     Sun-son!" 

Johannes  lifted  up  his  head,  and  listened.  It  tingled  in 
his  ears. 

"Sun-son!     Sun-son!" 

It  was  like  Windekind's  voice.  He  alone  had  named  him 
that;  should  he  call  him  now  ? 

But  he  looked  at  the  face  beside  him.  He  would  listen  no 
more. 

"Poor,  dear  father!"  he  said. 

But  suddenly  it  rang  again  around  him  from  all  sides,  so 
loud,  so  penetrating,  that  he  trembled  with  his  marvelous 
emotion. 

"Sun-son!     Sun-son!" 

Johannes  stood  up  and  gazed  outside.  What  light!  What 
splendid  light!  It  streamed  over  the  high  tree  tops,  it  glistened 
amid  the  grass-blades,  and  sparkled  in  the  shadow-patches. 
The  whole  air  was  filled  with  it  up  to  the  very  sky  where  the 
first  exquisite  sunset  clouds  were  flecking  the  blue. 

Beyond  the  meadow,  between  the  green  trees  and  shrubs, 
he  saw  the  dunes.  Red  gold  lay  along  their  slopes,  and  in 
their  shadows  hung  the  blue  of  the  heavens. 

They  lay  stretched  out  reposefully  in  their  robe  of  tender 
tints.     The  delicate  undulations  of  their  expanse  brought  a 

1 25 


126  THEQUEST 

benediction  —  as  does  prayer.  Johannes  felt  again  as  he 
had  felt  when  Windekind  taught  him  how  to  pray. 

Was  not  that  he,  there,  in  the  blue  garment?  Look!  there 
in  the  heart  of  the  light  —  shimmering  in  a  maze  of  blue  and 
gold.     Was  not  that  Windekind,  beckoning  him  ? 

Johannes  flew  out  of  doors  into  the  sunlight.  For  an  instant 
he  stood  still.  He  felt  the  holy  solemnity  of  the  light,  and 
scarcely  dared  to  move  where  the  foliage  was  so  still. 

Yet,  there,  in  front  of  him,  was  the  light  figure  again.  It 
was  Windekind!  It  surely  was!  His  radiant  face  was  turned 
toward  him,  and  the  lips  were  parted  as  if  calling  him. 
With  his  riffht  hand  he  was  beckoning.  In  his  left  he  held 
aloft  some  object.  In  the  tips  of  his  slender  fingers  he  held  it, 
and  it  glittered  and  sparkled. 

With  a  glad  cry  of  joy  and  yearning,  Johannes  sped  toward 
the  beloved  apparition.  But  with  laughing  face  and  waving 
hand,  it  floated  before  him,  still  beckoning  him  on.  Some- 
times it  would  drift  low,  and  lingeringly  skim  the  ground,  to 
ascend  again  lightly  and  swiftly,  and  float  farther  off^,  like  a 
feathery  seed  borne  on  by  the  wind. 

Johannes  himself  longed  to  rise  and  fly  as  he  had  done  long 
ago,  in  his  dreams.  But  the  earth  held  his  feet,  and  his 
steps  were  heavy  on  the  grassy  ground.  He  was  obliged  to 
pick  his  way  painfully  through  the  bushes  —  their  foliage 
rustline  and  scratchinc;  alone  his  clothes  —  their  branches 
brushing  across  his  face.  Panting  with  weariness  he  had  to 
climb  the  mossy  slopes  of  the  dunes.  Yet  he  followed  un- 
tiringly —  his  eye  never  turned  from  Windekind's  radiant 
apparition  —  from  what  was  gleaming  in  the  upraised  hand. 

There  he  was,  in  the  middle  of  the  dunes.  The  wild-roses, 
with  their  thousands  of  pale  yellow  cups,  were  blossoming  in 
the  glowing  valleys,  and  gazing  at  the  sunlight.  And  many 
other  flowers  were  blooming  there  —  bright  blue,  yellow,  and 
purple.  A  sultry  heat  filled  the  little  hollows,  cherishing  the 
fragrant  herbs.  Strong,  resinous  odors  hung  in  the  air. 
Johannes   smelled   them   as   he  went  —  he   smelled   the  wild 


THEQUEST  127 

thyme,  and  the  dry  reindeer-moss  which  crackled  under  his 
feet.     It  was  intoxicatingly  dehghtful. 

And  he  saw  mottled  field-moths  fluttering  in  front  of  the 
lovely  image  he  was  following;  also  little  black  and  red  butter- 
flies, and  the  sand-eye  —  the  merry  little  moth  with  satiny 
wings  of  the  most  delicate  blue. 

Golden  beetles  that  live  on  the  wild-rose  whirred  around 
his  head,  and  big  bumblebees  danced  and  hummed  all  about 
in  the  dry,  scorched  grass.  How  delightful  it  was!  How 
happy  he  would  be  if  only  he  were  with  Windekind. 

But  Windekind  swept  farther  and  farther  away.  He 
followed  breathlessly.  The  big,  pale-leaved  thorn-bushes 
held  him  back,  and  hurt  him  with  their  briars.  The 
fuzzy,  silvery  torch-plants  shook  their  tall  heads  as  he 
pushed  them  aside  from  his  course.  He  scrambled  up  the 
sandy  barriers,  and  wounded  his  hands  with  the  prickly 
broom. 

He  pushed  on  through  the  low  birch-wood  where  the  grass 
was  knee-high,  and  the  water-birds  flew  up  from  the  little 
pools  which  ghstened  among  the  shrubs.  Dense,  white- 
flowered  hawthorns  mingled  their  fragrance  with  that  of  the 
birch-leaves  and  the  mint,  which  grew  in  great  profusion  in 
the  swampy  soil. 

But  there  came  an  end  to  woods,  and  verdure,and  fragrant 
flowers.  Only  the  singular,  pale  blue  sea-holly,  growing 
amid  the  sear,  colorless  heath-grass. 

On  the  top  of  the  last  high  swell  of  the  dunes  Johannes  saw 
Windekind's  form.  There  was  a  blinding  glitter  from  his 
upraised  hand.  Borne  over  from  the  other  side  by  a  cool 
breeze,  a  great,  unceasing  roar  sounded  mysteriously  alluring. 
It  was  the  sea.  Johannes  felt  that  he  was  nearing  it,  and  he 
slowly  climbed  the  last  ascent.  At  the  top,  he  fell  on  his 
knees  and  gazed  upon  the  ocean. 

As  he  got  above  the  ridge,  a  rosy  glow  illumined  him.  The 
sunset  clouds  had  drawn  apart  from  the  central  light.  Like 
a  wide  ring  of  welded  blocks  of  stone,  with  glowing  red  edges, 


128  THEQUEST 

they  surrounded  the  sinking  sun.  Upon  the  sea  was  a  broad 
path  of  Hving,  crimson  fire  —  a  flaming,  sparkHng  path  lead- 
ing to  the  distant  gates  of  heaven. 

Behind  the  sun,  which  could  not  yet  be  looked  upon  —  in 
the  depths  of  the  light-grotto  —  were  exquisite  tints  of  inter- 
mingled blue  and  rose.  Outside,  the  whole  wide  sky  was 
lighted  up  with  blood-red  streaks,  and  dashes  and  fleckings 
of  streaming  fire. 

Johannes  watched  —  until  the  sun's  disk  touched  the  far- 
thest end  of  that  glowing  path  which  led  up  to  him. 

Then  he  looked  down,  and  very  near  was  the  bright  form 
that  he  had  followed.  A  boat,  clear  and  glistening  as  crystal, 
drifted  near  the  shore  upon  the  broad,  fiery  way.  At  one  end 
of  the  boat  stood  Windekind,  alert  and  slender,  with  that 
golden  object  in  his  hand.  At  the  other  end,  Johannes  recog- 
nized the  dark  figure  of  Death. 

"Windekind!  Windekind!"  cried  Johannes.  But  as  he 
approached  the  marvelous  boat,  he  also  looked  toward  the 
horizon.  In  the  middle  of  the  glowing  space,  surrounded  by 
great  fiery  clouds,  he  saw  a  small,  black  figure.  It  grew 
larger  and  larger,  and  a  man  slowly  drew  near,  calmly  walking 
on  the  tossing  fiery  waters. 

The  glowing  red  waves  rose  and  fell  beneath  his  feet,  but 
he  walked  tranquilly  onward. 

The  man's  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  dark  and  deep 
• — deep  as  the  eyes  of  Windekind;  but  there  was  an  infinitely 
gentle  melancholy  in  their  look  such  as  Johannes  had  never 
seen  in  any  other  eyes. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Johannes.     "Are  you  a  man?" 

"I  am  more,"  was  the  reply. 

"Art  Thou  Jesus  —  Art  Thou  God?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Speak  not  those  names!"  said  the  figure.  "They  were 
holy  and  pure  as  sacerdotal  robes,  and  precious  as  nourishing 
corn;  yet  they  have  become  as  husks  before  swine,  and  a 
jester's  garb  for  fools.  Name  them  not,  for  their  meaning 
•has  become   perverted,  their  worship  a  mockery.     Let  him 


THE    QUEST  129 

who  would  know  me  cast  aside  those  names  and  listen  to 
himself." 

"I  know  Thee!     I  know  Thee!"  said  Johannes. 

"It  was  I  who  made  you  weep  for  men,  while  yet  you  did 
not  understand  your  tears.  It  was  I  who  caused  you  to  love 
before  you  knew  the  meaning  of  your  love.  I  was  with  you 
and  you  saw  me  not  —  I  stirred  your  soul  and  you  knew  me 
not." 

"Why  do  I  first  see  Thee  now  ?" 

"The  eyes  which  behold  Me  must  be  brightened  by  many 
tears.  And  not  for  yourself  alone,  but  for  Me,  must  you  weep. 
Then  I  will  appear  to  you  and  you  shall  recognize  in  Me  an 
old  friend." 

"I  know  Thee!  I  recognized  Thee!  I  want  to  be  with 
Thee!" 

Johannes  stretched  out  his  hands.  But  the  man  pointed  to 
the  glittering  boat  that  was  slowly  drifting  out  upon  the  fiery 
path. 

"Look!"  said  he;  "that  is  the  way  to  all  you  have  longed 
for.  There  is  no  other.  Without  those  two  shall  you  not  find 
it.  Take  your  choice.  There  is  the  Great  Light;  there  you 
would  yourself  be  what  you  long  to  know.  There!"  —  and  he 
pointed  to  the  dark  East  —  "where  human  nature  and  its  sor- 
rows arc,  there  lies  my  way.  Not  that  errant  light  which 
has  misled  you,  but  /,  will  be  your  guide.  You  know  now. 
Take  your  choice." 

Then  Johannes  slowly  turned  away  his  eyes  from  Winde- 
kind's  beckoning  figure,  and  reached  out  his  hands  to  the 
serious  man.  And  with  his  guide,  he  turned  to  meet  the  chill 
night  wind,  and  to  tread  the  dreary  road  to  the  great,  dark 
town  where  hum.anity  was,  with  all  its  misery. 

Sometime  I  may  tell  you  more  about  Little  Johannes;  but 
it  will  not  be  like  a  fairy  tale. 


PART  II 


I  HAVE  said  that  I  might  perhaps  have  something  more  to 
tell  about  Little  Johannes.  Surely  you  have  not  thought  I 
w^ould  not  keep  my  word!  People  are  not  so  very  trustful  in 
these  days,  nor  so  patient,  either. 

But  now  I  am  going  to  put  you  to  confusion,  by  telling  you 
what  else  happened  to  Little  Johannes.  Listen!  It  is  worth 
your  while.  And  the  best  thing  of  all  is  that  it  will  be  rather 
like  a  fairy  story  —  even  more  so  than  what  I  have  already 
told  you. 

And  yet  it  is  all  true.  Yes,  it  all  really  truly  happened. 
Perhaps  you  will  again  be  inclined  to  doubt;  but  when  you 
are  older  —  much,  much  older  —  you  will  perceive  how  true 
it  is.  It  will  be  so  much  more  pleasant  for  you  to  have  faith 
in  it,  that  I  wish  from  my  heart  you  may  be  able  to.  If  you 
cannot,  I  am  sorry  for  you;  but  at  least  be  truthful.  There- 
fore skip  nothing,  but  read  it  all. 

And  should  you  happen  to  meet  Johannes,  I  give  you  leave 
to  speak  with  him  about  these  matters,  and  to  give  him  my 
regards.  He  might  not  answer,  but  he  will  not  be  offended. 
He  is  still  rather  small,  but  he  has  grown  a  bit. 

The  fine  weather  did  not  continue  far  into  the  evening. 
The  splendid  clouds  which  Johannes  had  seen  above  the  sea, 
and  out  of  which  strode  that  dark  figure,  now  betokened  a 
thunder-storm.  Before  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  dunes 
again,  the  sunset  sky  and  the  starry  heavens  were  obscured, 
and  a  wild,  exhausting  wind,  filled  with  fine,  misty  rain,  swept 
him  on.  Behind  him  the  lightning  played  above  the  sea,  and 
the  thunder  rolled  as  if  the  heavens  were  being  torn  asunder, 
and  the  planks  of  its  floor  tossed  one  by  one  into  a  great 
garret. 

Johannes  was  not  alarmed,  but  very  happy.     He  felt  the 

»33 


134  THEQUEST 

close  clasp  of  a  \varm,  firm  hand.  It  seemed  as  if  he  never 
yet  had  clung  to  a  hand  so  perfect  and  so  life-giving.  Even 
the  hand  of  Windekind  seemed  flimsy  and  feeble  compared 
with  this. 

He  thought  that  he  now  had  reached  the  end  of  all  his 
puzzles  and  difficulties.  This  may  also  have  occurred  to  you. 
But  how  could  that  be  possible  when  he  was  still  such  a  mere 
stripling,  and  did  not  yet  comprehend  one  half  of  all  the 
marvelous  things  that  had  befallen  him! 

It  may  be  that  all  has  been  plain  to  you.  But  it  was  not 
to  him,  although  he  may  have  thought  so.  He  was  yet  only 
a  little  fellow  without  beard  or  moustache,  and  his  voice  was 
still  that  of  a  boy. 

"My  friend,"  said  he  to  his  Guide,  "I  know  now  that  I 
have  been  bad  —  very  bad.  But  now  that  you  have  come 
and  I  can  cling  to  your  hand,  can  I  not  redeem  my  faults  ? 
Is  there  still  time  ?" 

The  dark  figure  kept  silently  and  steadily  on  beside  him  in 
the  storm  and  darkness.  Johannes  could  see  neither  his 
eyes  nor  his  features;  he  only  heard  the  swishing  and  flapping 
of  his  garments  —  heavy  with  the  rain.  Then  he  asked 
again,  somewhat  anxiously,  because  the  consolation  he  was 
yearning  for  was  longer  delayed  than  he  expected: 

"May  I  not  sometime  call  myself  a  friend  of  yours  ?  Am 
I  not  yet  worthy  of  that  ?  I  have  always  so  wanted  to  have 
a  friend!  That  was  the  best  thing  in  life,  I  thought  —  really 
the  only  thing  I  cared  about.  And  now  I  have  lost  all  my 
friends  —  my  dog,  Windekind,  and  my  father.  Am  I  too 
bad  to  deserve  a  true  friend  ?" 

Then  there  came  an  answer: 

"When  you  can  he  a  true  friend,  Johannes,  then  indeed 
you  will  find  one." 

There  was  consolation  in  the  soft,  low  tones,  and  there 
was  love  and  forgiveness;  but  the  words  were  torturing. 


THEQUEST  135 

"Bad,  bad!"  muttered  Johannes,  setting  his  teeth  together. 
He  wanted  to  cry,  but  he  could  not  do  that.  That  would 
have  been  to  pity  himself,  and  that  was  not  in  accordance 
with  his  Guide's  reply.  He  had  not  been  a  good  friend  to  his 
dog,  nor  to  Windekind,  nor  to  his  father.  He  wished  now 
that  he  could  at  once  make  amends  for  everything,  but  that 
could  not  be.     It  had  been  made  clear. 

It  was  desolate  on  the  dunes,  and  dark  as  pitch.  The 
wind  was  whistling  through  the  reeds  and  the  dwarf  poplars, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen.  How  far  away  seemed 
the  quiet  sunlight  now,  the  playful  animals,  and  the  flowers! 
Silently  and  swiftly  the  two  strode  on  along  a  winding  cart- 
track  through  the  deep,  wet  sand,  now  and  then  stumbling 
over  the  ruts.     It  was  the  road  that  led  to  the  town. 

"I  shall — "  began  Johannes  again,  resolutely  lifting  his 
head.     But  there  he  halted. 

"Who  says  'I  shall'  ^  Who  knows  what  he  will  do  ?  Can 
Johannes  say,  I  am  ?" 

"I  am  sorry  and  I  am  ashamed,  and  I  wish  to  be  better," 
said  Johannes. 

"That  is  well,"  said  the  soft  low  voice.  And  the  tears 
started  in  Johannes'  eyes.  He  clung  close  to  his  Guide, 
trembling  slightly  as  they  went. 

"Teach  me,  my  Father.     I  want  to  know  how  to  be  better." 

"Not  'Father,'  Johannes.  We  both  have  the  same  Father. 
You  must  call  me  Brother." 

At  that  word  Johannes  looked  timidly  up  at  his  Guide  with 
startled  face  and  wide-open  eyes.  In  a  flash  of  the  steel-blue 
lightning,  Johannes  saw  the  pale  brow,  with  the  dark  eyes 
turned  kindly  toward  him.  The  hair  of  his  Guide  was  matted 
and  dripping  with  water,  as  were  also  his  beard  and  his  mous- 
tache. The  locks  clung  to  his  white  gleaming  forehead,  and 
his  eyes  glowed  with  an  inner  light.  Johannes  felt  a  bound- 
less love  and  adoration,  and  at  the  same  time  an  inexpressible 


136  THE    GUEST 

compassion.  "My  brother!"  thought  he.  "Oh,  good,  good 
man! 

And  he  said:  "How  wet  you  are!  Put  my  jacket  over 
your  head.     I  do  not  need  it." 

But  in  the  darkness  his  hand  was  gently  restrained,  and 
they  hurried  on  while  the  sweat  and  the  rain  were  commingled 
upon  their  faces. 

After  a  while  his  Guide  said  to  him: 

"Johannes,  pay  attention  to  me,  for  I  am  going  to  say  some- 
thing to  you  that  you  must  bear  in  mind.  Your  true  life  is 
only  now  beginning,  and  it  is  difficult  to  live  a  good  life.  If 
only  you  could  remember  what  I  am  now  telling  you,  you 
would  never  again  be  unhappy.  Neither  life  nor  people 
would  be  able  to  make  you  unhappy.  And  yet  it  will  not 
prove  thus  —  because  you  will  forget." 

There  was  silence  for  a  while,  broken  only  by  the  whist- 
ling of  the  wind,  the  flapping  of  their  garments,  and  their 
rapid  breathing  —  for  they  were  walking  very  fast. 

"  Train  your  memory,  therefore;  for  without  an  exact  and 
retentive  memory  nothing  good  is  attained.  And  mark  this 
well;  not  the  small  and  transient  must  you  be  mindful  of,  but 
the  great  and  the  eternal." 

Then  there  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
heavens  were  being  consumed  in  the  white  fire,  while  a  terrific 
peal  of  thunder  immediately  followed,  directly  over  their  heads. 

But  Johannes'  thoughts  were  dwelling  attentively  upon  the 
words  he  had  heard,  and  he  was  neither  frightened  nor  dis- 
quieted. He  raised  his  head,  proud  and  glad  that  he  was  not 
afraid,  and  looked,  with  wide-open  eyes,  into  the  high,  dark 
dome  of  the  heavens. 

"This  is  the  great  and  the  eternal,  is  it  not?"  he  asked. 
"This  I  will  bear  in  mind." 

But  his  Guide  said: 

"It  is  not  the  thunder  and  the  lio;htnino;  ^vhich  aou  must 


THEQUEST  137 

bear  in  mind,  for  they  are  temporal  and  will  often  recur;  but 
that  you  were  unafraid,  and  bravely  held  up  your  counte- 
nance —  that  you  must  remember,  and  the  reason  why  you 
did  so.  For  it  will  thunder  and  lighten  at  other  times,  and 
you  will  be  afraid.  But  even  now  —  at  this  instant  —  it 
could  strike  you  dead.     Why  do  you  not  fear  now?" 

"Because  you  are  with  me,"  said  Johannes. 

"Well,  then,  Johannes,  remember  this;  you  always  have 
me  with  you." 

They  were  silent  for  a  long  while,  and  Johannes  was  think- 
ing over  these  noble  words.  But  he  did  not  understand  their 
import.  If  he  were  always  to  have  his  Leader  with  him,  how 
could  he  forget  ?  Then  he  asked,  although  he  well  knew 
what  the  reply  would  be: 

"Are  you,  then,  going  to  stay  with  me  always  ?" 

"Even  as  I  always  have  been  with  you,"  was  the  unex- 
pected answer. 

"But  I  did  not  see  you,  then." 

"And  very  soon  again  you  will  not  see  me;  yet  I  shall  be 
with  you,  just  the  same.  Therefore,  you  must  cultivate  your 
memory,  so  that  it  will  remind  you  when  your  eyes  see  not. 
Who  that  is  forgetful  can  be  relied  on  .''  You  have  never  been 
faithful,  Johannes,  and  you  will  forget  me  also.  But  I  shall 
remain  faithful,  and  you  will  bring  me  to  mind.  Then,  when 
you  have  learned  to  bethink  yourself,  and  are  yourself  a  faithful 
friend,  you  shall  have  a  brother  and  a  friend." 

The  road  was  firmer  now,  and  in  the  distance  they  saw  the 
lights  of  the  town.  Close  by,  the  orange-yellow  window- 
squares  were  glimmering  through  the  rain  and  darkness  — 
the  dwellings  themselves  being  still  invisible  in  the  night. 
They  saw  the  pools  glisten,  and  they  met  a  man.  There  was 
a  hurried,  heavy  footstep  —  a  glowing  red  cigar-tip.  Johannes 
breathed  the  well-known,  offensive,  human  atmosphere  of 
wet  garments  and  tobacco  smoke.     B\'  the  flashes  of  lightning 


138  THEQUEST 

he  could  see  all  around  him  little  white  and  grey  cottages. 
He  saw  the  gleaming  street,  far  out  in  front  of  him  —  hay- 
stacks and  barns  —  a  fence  along  the  way;  everything  suddenly 
sharp  and  livid. 

Then  a  change  came  over  him.  At  once,  he  was  conscious 
of  everything,  as  one,  being  awakened,  is  aw^are  of  a  voice 
already  heard  in  his  dream. 

He  clearly  felt  himself  to  be  an  ordinary  human  be- 
ing, like  every  one  else.  And  his  exalted  companion  was 
also  an  ordinary  man.  He  saw  both,  just  as  the  passers- 
by  would  see  them;  a  man  and  a  boy,  wet  with  the  rain, 
walking  hand  in  hand.  Windekind  did  not  get  wet  in  the 
rain. 

As  they  neared  the  suburbs,  it  became  lighter  and  more 
noisy.  It  was  not  the  great  city  where  Johannes  had  lived 
with  Pluizer,  but  the  small  one  where  he  was  born  and  where 
he  had  gone  to  school. 

And  as  the  two  approached,  they  heard,  through  the  rushing 
of  the  rain  and  the  rolling  of  the  thunder,  a  lighter,  indistinct 
sound  which  reminded  Johannes  so  well  of  former  times.  It 
was  a  confused  intermingling  of  voices,  singing,  a  continual 
din  of  organ-grinding,  sharp  little  sounds  of  trumpets  and 
flutes,  the  reports  of  fire-crackers  and  rifle-shots,  and  now  and 
then  a  shrill,  discordant  whistle,  or  the  sound  of  a  bell.  It 
was  the  Fair! 

"  Be  careful  now,  Johannes.  Here  are  people,"  said  his 
companion. 

Johannes  gave  a  start.  His  task  was  to  begin.  He  could 
no  longer  rail  at  human  beings,  nor  disclaim  his  own  human 
origin.  He  knew  now  that  he  had  been  erring,  and  he  resolved 
to  mend  his  ways.  Had  not  good  Death  told  him  it  was  well 
worth  while  to  be  a  good  man  ?  So  now  he  would  live  with 
men,  and  try  to  become  a  good  man  himself;  to  relieve  pain, 
to  lighten  grief,  and  to  bring  beauty  and  happiness  into  the 


THEQUEST  139 

lives  of  others.  Was  not  that  what  He  was  teaching  —  He 
at  whose  blessed  side  he  should  henceforth  go  ? 

But  he  was  greatly  distressed.  He  already  knew  so  well 
what  men  were.     He  shivered  in  his  wet  clothing. 

"Are  you  afraid  already?  Think  how  brave  you  were 
just  now.  You  must  mind,  not  only  the  words,  but  the  meaning 
of  them." 

"I  will  be  strong  and  brave.  I  will  be  a  man  among  men, 
a  good  man  —  doing  good  to  men." 

So  saying,  Johannes  nerved  himself,  and  with  steadfast  step 
entered  the  town. 

Here  things  looked  truly  dismal.  Water  was  spouting  out 
of  the  gutters  into  the  streets.  Everything  was  glistening  in 
the  wet,  and  big  streams  of  water  were  flowing  down  the  tent 
canvases. 

But  the  people  were  out  on  pleasure  bent,  and  pleasure 
they  would  have.  As  the  shop  doors  vv'ere  opened  one  could 
see  the  red  faces  within,  close  to  one  another  in  the  blue  tobacco 
smoke,  and  could  hear  the  uproar  of  loud  singing  and  the 
stamping  of  feet. 

Under  the  projecting  canvas  of  the  booths  the  crowds 
flocked  together,  slowly  pushing  one  past  the  other  into  the 
bright  light  of  the  lamps.  Johannes  and  his  Guide  pressed 
in  among  them  to  get  out  of  the  rain. 

Johannes  was  fond  of  fairs.  Always  he  was  glad  when 
the  boats  arrived  in  the  canal  with  the  timber  for  the  various 
booths  and  play-tents;  and  he  looked  on  eagerly  while  the 
flimsy  structures  —  for  that  one  week  only  —  were  being  put 
together.  This  onlooking  was  an  earnest  of  the  strange  and 
fantastic  pleasures  in  store  for  him. 

He  liked  the  gay  and  merry  pageantry,  the  foolish  inscrip- 
tions on  the  merry-go-rounds,  the  mysterious  places  behind 
and  between  the  tents,  where  the  performers  lodged;  and 
above  all,  the  tiny,  out-of-the-way  tents  with  their  natural 
curiosities,  and  the  strange  animals,  which  seemed  so  sadly 


140  THEQUEST 

out  of  place  in  this  Dutch  world,  in  their  tedious,  unvarying 
captivity,  with  the  reveling  crowd  around  them. 

And  every  summer  he  found  it  just  as  hard  to  see  the  break- 
ing up  of  this  variegated  medley. 

Not  that  he  ever  had  longed  for  the  Fair  when  with  Winde- 
kind,  but,  of  all  that  he  had  experienced  while  among  human 
beings,  the  Fair  seemed  to  him  the  most  delightful. 

And  now  he  was  rejoiced  at  the  familiar  scene  of  the  booths 
with  their  toys;  the  cakes,  layered  with  rose-colored  sugar 
and  inscribed  with  white  lettering;  all  the  shining  brass-work 
of  the  toy-pistol  bazaars;  the  small  tents  in  lonely  places, 
where  brown,  smoked  eels  lay  between  brass-headed  iron 
bars;  the  shooting-galleries;  the  noisy  and  showy  merry-go- 
rounds. 

Nor  did  he,  for  old  remembrance'  sake,  mind  the  various 
odors  and  mal-odors;  the  smell  of  cake,  of  frying  fat,  and  of 
smoking  lamps;  nor  the  strange,  mysterious,  stable  and  wild- 
beast  scents  that  came  out  of  the  large  exhibition  tents. 

The  children  were  running  about,  as  usual,  with  their  red 
balloons  —  tooting  upon  trumpets,  and  twirling  their  rattles. 
The  mothers  had  their  skirts  over  their  heads  to  keep  off  the 
rain.  Now  and  then  a  train  of  young  men  and  maidens  — 
their  caps  and  hoods  askew,  or  back  side  before  —  danced 
their  way  through  the  crowds,  with  shining,  rollicking  faces, 
shouting  as  they  went:  "hi!  ha!  hi!  ha!"  Then  they  would 
calm  down,  and  step  one  side  to  look  again  at  the  cakes  and 
the  knick-knacks. 

As  Johannes  dearly  loved  a  laugh,  he  stopped  again  and 
again  where  there  was  anything  funny;  at  the  Punch-and- 
Judy  show,  or  the  antics  in  front  of  the  circus,  of  which  the 
peasants  are  foolishly  fond. 

Thus,  beside  his  companion,  he  stood  looking,  in  the  midst 
of  a  group  of  people  holding  open  umbrellas.  On  all  sides 
he  saw  staring  faces,  reddened  by  the  light  of  the  sputtering 
oil-torch  in  front  of  the  tent.  The  people  looked  stupid,  he 
thought,  standing  there  staring,  now  and  then  all   bursting 


THEQUEST  141 

out  together  in  a  laugh  when  a  clown  cracked  a  joke.  Painted 
on  the  canvas,  in  front  of  the  tent,  he  saw  ugly  pictures  of 
horrible  battles  between  men  and  tigers  —  and  everywhere, 
blood!  From  the  balustrade,  a  monkey  was  watching  the 
people  very  seriously.  Ever  and  anon  he  darted  a  glance  at 
a  boy  standing  close  by,  to  discover  if  he  meant  well  or  ill  by 
his  outstretched  hand. 

Behind  the  little  table  at  the  curtained  entrance  sat  a 
buxom  woman  dressed  in  a  black  silk  gown.  Her  face  was 
round  and  broad,  and  her  dark,  glossy  hair  was  smoothly 
plastered  to  her  forehead.  She  was  not  ugly,  but  reminded 
Johannes  of  the  wax  dolls  in  front  of  the  hair-dressers'. 

Suddenly,  Johannes  heard  the  ring-master  speaking  to  him; 
and  the  people  turned  their  heads  round  and  grinned  at  him. 

"Come  on,  young  gentleman,"  said  the  ring-master,  "you 
must  see  the  show,  too!  Ask  your  papa  to  let  you  see  the 
show.  There  are  pretty  girls  here,  too  —  very  nice  for  young 
gentlemen.     Just  look  here,  what  pretty  girls!" 

Then  he  pointed  to  the  buxom  woman  behind  the  table, 
who,  laughing  not  a  bit,  but  showing  off  her  rings  with  their 
mock  jewels,  held  up  the  curtain  as  an  invitation  to  Johannes 
to  enter.  And  then  the  ring-master  pointed  to  a  pale,  slim 
girl,  whose  lank  hair,  light  and  silky,  was  combed  straight 
down,  and  fell  below  her  waist.  She  stood  in  front  of  the  tent, 
dressed  in  a  soiled  white  suit,  spangled  with  silver.  Her 
skirt  was  short,  and  her  white  tights  did  not  fit  well  over  her 
long,  thin  legs. 

"Hello!  Come  on!  Come  on!"  cried  the  girl,  in  a  shrill, 
eager  little  voice,  clapping  her  hands. 

Ha!  How  suddenly  Johannes'  attention  was  riveted!  He 
experienced  a  wonderfully  strong  feeling  of  tenderness  and 
sympathy  as  he  looked  at  that  pale  child.  She  wore  a  little 
silver  crown  on  her  hair,  which  was  nearly  ash-blonde,  and 
her  eyes,  also,  were  light-grey  or  light-blue,  he  could  not  tell 
which. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  in  ?"  asked  his  Guide. 


142  THEQUEST 

Without  looking  up  Johannes  nodded  his  head.  They 
pressed  slowly  through  the  people,  and  Johannes  saw  that 
the  girl  kept  looking  at  him  attentively,  as  if  his  coming 
mattered  more  to  her  than  that  of  the  others.  What  wonder- 
ful things  entered  his  head  in  those  few  seconds,  while  press- 
ing through  the  packed,  ill-smelling  crowd,  on  his  way  into 
the  tent.  He  thought  of  his  dead  father  —  and  about  his 
own  going,  now,  to  an  entertainment  at  a  Fair.  But,  imme- 
diately, he  thought,  also,  of  the  great  change  —  his  deliver- 
ance from  Pluizer,  and  that  he  had  not  come  to  the  Fair  for 
his  own  pleasure,  like  an  every-day  schoolboy,  but  that  he 
had  now  come  among  people  in  order  to  soothe  their  sorrows, 
and  to  make  them  good  and  happy.  At  the  same  time  he 
felt  a  strong  aversion  to  that  rough,  rude,  and  unsavory  throng. 
And  then  he  looked  again  at  the  pale  girl  who  had  called  to 
him,  and  was  waiting  for  him.  She  was  a  human  being,  too, 
and  his  whole  heart  went  out  to  her.  She  looked  so  slight, 
so  serious  and  intelligent.  What  a  life  she  must  have  led! 
And  what  must  she  think  and  feel! 

For  an  instant  he  forgot  something;  namely,  whose  hand  it 
was  he  was  holding.  He  had  not  yet  let  drop  that  dear  hand, 
but  was  not  thinking  who  it  was  that  had  been  taken  for  his 
father,  and  was  leading  him  into  a  circus. 

"What  is  the  price?"  he  heard  his  Guide  ask  the  young 
woman,  in  his  deep,  serious  voice. 

But  the  pale  little  girl,  who  had  continued  all  this  time 
looking  at  him,  cried  out  in  an  abrupt,  decided  tone:  "It's 
Markus!" 

The  fat  young  woman  just  glanced  in  silence  from  the 
girl  to  the  two  visitors,  and  then  struck  the  table  with  her 
plump,  white,  ring-covered  hands,  till  the  money-box  jingled. 

"Jerusalem!  Is  that  you  Vissie  ?  W^here  did  you  swim 
from?  And  how  did  you  find  that  kid?  Nix  to  pay!  Just 
step  inside.  Right  here!  First  row.  I'll  see  you  again, 
presently,  eh  ?" 

Then  she  looked  straight  at  Johannes  with  her  black  eyes. 


THEQUEST  143 

He  shrank  from  that  cold,  hard,  scrutiny.  But  she  laughed 
in  a  friendly  way  and  said: 

"How  d'  do,  youngster?" 

Johannes  felt  the  perspiration  start,  from  fright  and  con- 
fusion. That  exalted  being,  whom  he  had  seen  treading  the 
glowing  waters  of  the  sea,  whose  hand  he  still  retained,  to  be 
spoken  to  in  such  a  manner,  by  this  insignificant  creature  — 
as  if  he  were  an  old  acquaintance!  Had  he  utterly  lost  his 
senses  ?  Had  he  been  dreaming,  and  had  he  been  walking 
with  one  or  other  of  the  Fair-goers  ? 

Not  until  he  had  sat  awhile,  and  his  heart  had  ceased  to 
beat  so  fast,  did  he  venture  to  lift  his  eyes  —  which  had  taken 
in  nothing  of  their  surroundings  —  and  look  up  at  his 
Guide. 

The  latter  had  evidently  been  regarding  him  for  a  consider- 
able time.  The  first  glance  sufficed.  Johannes  saw  the 
selfsame  pale  face,  the  selfsame  somewhat  weary,  but  clear 
and  steady  eyes  full  of  earnest  ardor,  trustful  and  begetting 
trust;  bestowing,  through  their  regard  alone,  rest  and  solace 
indescribable. 

But  he  was  an  ordinary  man  —  the  same  as  the  others. 
He  had  on  a  brown  cap  with  the  ear-flaps  tied  together  over 
the  top,  and  he  wore  an  old  faded  cloak  out  of  which  the  rain- 
water was  still  trickling  down  upon  the  seat.  His  shoes,  mud- 
covered  and  water-soaked,  stood  squarely  against  each  other 
on  the  wooden  floor.  His  trousers  were  frayed  out,  and  had 
lost  all  definite  color. 

Johannes  wanted  to  speak  to  him,  but  his  lips  trembled  so 
he  could  not  utter  a  word,  and  tears  coursed  down  his 
cheeks. 

All  this  time  they  still  sat  hand  in  hand.  Nothing  had  been 
said,  but  Johannes  felt  his  hand  being  pressed,  while  a  super- 
human assurance  and  encouragement,  from  out  those  kindly 
eyes,  gradually  penetrated  to  the  depths  of  his  being. 

His  Guide  smiled,  and  indicated  that  he  ought  to  give 
attention  to  the  performance  and  to  the  spectators.     Slowly, 


144  THEQUEST 

with  a  long-drawn  breath,  Johannes  turned  his  eyes  thither; 
but  he  looked  on  listlessly  and  without  interest. 

And  now  and  then  —  whenever  he  dared  —  he  looked  at  his 
Guide;  at  his  wet,  shabby  clothes;  at  his  hands  —  not  coarse 
—  but  oddly  rough,  and  with  a  blackened  thumb  and  fore- 
finger; at  his  pale,  patient  face,  with  the  hair  clinging  to  the 
temples. 

The  boy's  lips  began  to  tremble  again,  his  throat  contracted, 
and  irrepressible  sobs  accompanied  the  tears. 

When  he  looked  into  the  sanded  ring  around  which  the 
spectators  sat,  he  saw  a  large  white  horse  coming  in.  Upon 
him  stood  the  pale,  fair  little  girl.  She  had  more  color  now, 
and  looked  much  prettier  and  more  graceful.  She  sprang 
and  knelt  upon  the  big  white  horse  while  she  enlivened  him 
with  her  shrill  cries. 

It  was  not  merely  sympathy  and  tenderness  that  moved 
Johannes  now,  but  something  more  of  admiration  and  respect; 
for  she  seemed  no  older  than  himself,  and  yet  she  was  not  in 
the  least  timid,  but  understood  her  art  well.  The  people 
clapped  loudly,  and  then  she  put  her  slender,  delicate  hands 
one  by  one  to  her  lips,  waving  them  first  to  the  left,  then  to  the 
right,  with  self-possessed  grace. 

The  clown  made  her  a  low  bow  with  all  kinds  of  foolish 
grimaces,  and  indicated  the  greatest  respect;  and  she  rewarded 
him  with  a  studied  smile,  like  a  princess.  Johannes  could 
not  take  his  eyes  away  from  her. 

"Who  is  that  little  girl.?"  he  asked  his  Guide.  "Is  she 
really  so  lovely  ?" 

"Her  name  is  Marjon,"  said  his  Guide,  "and  she  is  a  dear, 
good  child,  but  too  weak  for  her  task." 

"I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  her,"  said  Johannes. 

"That  is  a  good  boy.     We  will  go  to  her,  presently." 

Johannes  did  not  pay  much  more  attention  to  the  exhibition. 
His  mind  was  full  of  the  prospective  interview  with  the  little 


THEQUEST  145 

actress.  The  world  in  which  she  Hved  was  charming.  And 
she  herself  seemed,  at  this  moment,  the  one  above  all  others 
he  most  wished  to  help  and  benefit. 

After  the  spectators  were  gone  he  went  with  his  Guide 
between  the  curtains  from  behind  which  the  horses  had  come. 
In  the  dimly  lighted  space  where  a  single  lamp  was  burning, 
and  close  to  where  the  breathing  and  stamping  of  the  horses 
could  be  heard,  Johannes  saw  her  sitting.  She  was  stooping 
down  to  a  chest  on  the  top  of  which  were  some  plates  of  food, 
and  she  still  had  on  her  pretty  costume.  There  was  no  one 
with  her. 

"Good  day,  Markus,"  said  she,  extending  her  hand  to 
Johannes'  Guide.     "Who  is  the  little  boy?" 

"This  is  Johannes.  He  wishes  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
and  to  do  something  good  for  you." 

"Is  that  so.?"  laughed  the  girl.  "Then  he  might  just 
change  my  silver  quarters  into  gold." 

Johannes  did  not  know  what  to  say,  and  was  more  per- 
plexed than  he  remembered  ever  in  his  life  to  have  been  before. 
But  Marjon  looked  at  him  with  her  large,  light,  grey  eyes, 
and  nodded  kindly. 

"Come,  little  boy,  don't  be  so  bashful.  Won't  you  have 
something  to  eat?  Quick!  Before  my  sister  comes!  But 
you  ought  to  stay  with  us.  We  are  going  to  Delft  this  week. 
Are  you  going  with  us,  Markus?" 

"It  may  be,"  said  Markus.  "Now,  we  are  only  going  to 
try  to  find  a  place  to  sleep  in.  Johannes  can  hardly  feel 
hungry.     Do  you,  Johannes?" 

Johannes  shook  his  head. 

"He  has  had  a  great  sorrow,  Marjon;  his  father  has  just 
died." 

Marjon  looked  at  him  again,  gently  and  good-naturedly,  and 
then  gave  him  her  hand,  with  the  very  same,  quick  gesture  of 
confidence  a  monkey  employs  when  he  recognizes  his  master. 

"Good-by,  till  morning,"  she  said,  as  the  two  passed  out 
of  the  rear  door  of  the  tent. 


146  THEQUEST 

Outside,  the  moon  was  shining,  and,  since  the  rain  had 
stopped,  the  Fair-people  had  become  still  more  jolly  and 
noisy. 

Well,  well!  How  ugly  they  were!  How  clumsily  they 
danced,  and  how  badly  they  sang!  The  men  and  womenwere 
now  standing  in  circles,  their  arms  interlocked,  with  one 
another's  hoods  and  caps  on,  ready  to  spring  into  the  street, 
and  to  shriek  out,  in  their  harsh  voices,  songs  without  sense  or 
tune.  All  their  faces  were  wanton,  vacant,  or  downright 
dissipated,  and  most  of  them  were  flushed  with  excitement 
or  with  drink. 

Johannes  saw  mothers,  too,  with  infants  in  their  arms, 
and  leading  little  children  by  the  hand,  coming  out  of  the 
fritter-stalls,  dragging  themselves  along  through  the  crowds. 
The  tavern  doors  flew  open,  and  the  rude  Fair-goers 
bounced  outside.  Here  and  there,  on  the  street  corners,  a 
fierce  quarrel  was  in  progress,  with  a  close  ring  of  onlookers 
gathered  around.  Nothing  more  that  was  pretty,  or  nice, 
or  pleasing,  was  in  sight.  Everywhere  there  was  raving  and 
ranting  and  bawling;  with  a  thousand  dissonant  noises,  and 
a  wretched  stench. 

The  only  exception  was  a  squad  of  six  soldiers,  passingcalmly 
and  quietly,  with  regulated  step,  through  the  throng,  in  single 
file.  It  was  the  patrol.  Johannes  knew  it,  and  it  gave  him 
a  feeling  of  rest  and  contentment,  as  if  there  was  something 
else  in  human  beings  save  rudeness  and  debauchery;  that  a 
little  self-restraint  and  worthiness  still  remained. 

Up  above  —  beyond  that  petty  tumult  —  beyond  that 
ruddy  flaming  and  flickering,  the  moon  was  shining,  silver- 
white  and  stately.     Johannes  looked  up  longingly. 

He  found  his  task  an  awful  one,  and  the  people  worse  than 
he  had  expected.  But  of  one  little  being  he  thought  with 
tenderness;  and  in  her  case  he  would  persevere. 

"Let  us  go  to  sleep,"  he  begged. 

"Very  well,"  said  his  Guide,  opening  a  tavern  door. 

It  was  oppressive  there,  and  reeking  with  the  fumes  of  gin 


THEQUEST  147 

and  tobacco.  They  pressed  their  way  through  the  crowd 
and  went  up  to  the  bar. 

"Have  you  lodgings  for  us,  Vrouw  Schimmel?"  asked 
Johannes'  Guide. 

"  Lodgings  ?  Well,  seeing  it's  you,  Markus.  But  other- 
wise not!     See?     Go  now  —  the  two  of  you!" 

They  crept  up  to  a  small  dark  garret,  and  there  received  a 
couple  of  mattresses  which  the  maid  had  dragged  upstairs; 
and  then  they  could  lie  down. 

Johannes  lay  awake  through  the  clamor  and  jingling  and 
the  stamping  of  the  Fair-goers  downstairs  until  long  after 
the  morning  light  had  broken.  The  day  just  passed  —  long 
as  a  year,  and  full  of  great  and  weighty  matters  —  was  thought 
over  from  beginning  to  end.  Serene,  open-eyed  —  quietly,  not 
restlessly,  he  lay  there  meditating  till  morning  dawned,  and 
the  sunlight,  like  a  red-gold  stain,  touched  the  wall  above 
him,  and  till  the  din  downstairs  had  subsided  and  died  away. 
Then  he  fell  asleep,  thinking  of  Marjon  —  her  bright  eyes 
and  silver  crown. 


II 

He  was  awakened  by  jovial  sounds.  There  was  something 
hopeful  and  powerful  about  and  within  him  when  he  opened 
his  eyes  again,  and  looked  around  the  close,  dark  little 
garret.  A  column  of  sunbeams  stood  slanting  from  the  floor 
to  the  little  dormer  window,  and  motes  were  glistening  in  the 
light. 

Both  out-of-doors,  and  below  him,  Johannes  heard  the 
women  singing,  and  busily,  merrily  talking  —  the  way  women 
do  mornings  as  they  hurry  with  their  kitchen  and  door-yard 
tasks.  The  rubbish  of  the  day  before  was  thrust  aside,  and 
everything  was  in  readiness  for  a  new  Fair  day. 

Beside  him  lay  his  Guide,  still  calmly  sleeping.  He  had 
removed  nothing  but  his  coat  with  which  he  had  covered 
himself,  and  his  shoes  which  were  standing  beside  the  mattress. 
He  was  in  a  profound  sleep  —  his  head  upon  his  rolled-up 
mantle.  His  curling  hair  was  now  dry,  and  looked  dark  and 
glossy,  and  his  cheeks  bore  a  little  more  color.  Johannes 
gazed  attentively  at  his  right  hand  hanging  down  from  under 
his  coat,  over  the  mattress  to  the  floor.  It  was  a  slender, 
shapely  hand,  with  short-cut  nails,  but  the  blackening  which 
Johannes  had  seen  the  day  before  was  still  there.  That  stamp 
of  toil  could  not  be  washed  away. 

Johannes  slipped  quietly  downstairs  and  went  to  wash 
himself  at  the  pump  in  the  courtyard.  About  him  all  was 
cheerful  activity  —  scrubbing  and  scouring,  washing  and 
rinsing.  The  summer  morning  was  warm  and  yet  fresh. 
It  was  a  clear  and  sober  world  with  nothing  dreamy  or  fanci- 
ful about  it. 

The  bar-woman  poured  him  out  a  cup  of  coff'ee,  and  asked 
in  a  familiar  way  if  his  roommate  was  still  sleeping,  and  how 
Johannes  had  met  him. 

"Oh,  just  by  chance!"  answered  Johannes,  blushing  deeply; 


THEQUEST  149 

not  only  because  he  was  fibbing,  but  because  it  was  to  himself 
such  a  delicate  and  obscure  matter,  and  of  such  supreme  im- 
portance. 

"Who  is  he,  really  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  feeling  of  committing 
treason. 

"Who  is  he!"  re-echoed  the  mistress,  in  such  a  loud  voice 
and  with  such  emphasis  that  the  other  women  stopped  their 
work  and  looked  up.  "Did  you  hear  him?  He  asks  who 
Markus  is!" 

"Do  you  mean  Markus  Vis?"  asked  a  slatternly  work- 
girl. 

"Yes,  that's  who  he  means!"  said  the  bar-woman. 

The  women  looked  at  one  another,  and  then  went  on  again 
with  their  splashing  and  scrubbing. 

"I  do  not  know  anything  yet,"  said  Johannes,  a  little  more 
boldly. 

"Neither  do  we,"  said  the  slovenly  girl.     "Do  you.  Bet?" 

"I  know  that  he  is  a  darn  good  fellow,"  answered  Bet. 

"They  do  say,  though,  that  he  is  not  good,"  said  another 
work-woman. 

"True,  he  mav  not  be  good  —  but  good  he  is,  I  say,"  re- 
torted Bet. 

This  sounded  a  bit  obscure,  but  Johannes  understood  it 
perfectly  well. 

"He  has  more  sense  than  all  four  of  you  put  together," 
said  the  bar-woman,  indignantly.  "I  have  seen,  with  my 
own  eyes,  how  the  little  daughter  of  Sannes,  the  Plumber, 
who  had  been  given  up  by  as  many  as  four  doctors  because 
there  was  not  a  ghost  of  a  chance  for  her,  —  how  she  was 
taken  by  Markus  on  his  lap,  when  all  the  phlegm  came  loose; 
and  only  yesterday,  I  saw  her  with  her  mother,  running  in 
front  of  the  booths." 

"And  the  other  day,"  said  the  slatternly  girl,  "when  that 
tall  Knelis  at  the  vegetable  market  was  drunk  again  —  you 
know  that  common  brawler  with  the  white  flap  on  his  cap  — 
well,  he  just  took  him  gently  by  the  wing,  home  to  his  old 


150  THEOUEST 

woman;  and  the  fellow  went  along,  as  meek  as  a  booby  tied 
to  his  mother's  apron-string." 

In  this  way,  one  story  suggested  another,  and  Johannes 
soon  learned  how  much  his  Guide  was  liked  and  esteemed 
among  performers,  showmen,  workmen,  day-laborers  —  yes, 
even  by  the  shopkeepers  and  tavern-keepers,  although  he  was 
a  poor  customer. 

"What  does  he  really  do  ?  "  asked  Johannes. 

"Don't  you  know  that?"  replied  the  mistress,  astonished. 
"And  yet  I  thought  you  were  going  to  be  his  apprentice.  He 
is  a  scissors-grinder.      His  cart  stands  here,  in  the  shed." 

Johannes  felt  his  heart  thumping  again,  for  he  heard  com- 
ing the  very  one  of  whom  they  were  speaking.  He  scarcely 
dared  to  look  at  him.  But  the  woman  exclaimed:  "Good 
morning,  Markus!  That's  a  sly-boots  of  yours  —  he  doesn't 
even  know  what  your  work  is!" 

Quite  in  his  accustomed  w^ay  Markus  said:  "Good  morn- 
ing, all!  Is  there  a  bowl  of  coffee  for  me,  too?  Well,  there 
is  time  enough  yet  to  understand  about  that.  One  may 
learn  fast  enough,  turning  the  wheel." 

"Will  he  have  to  turn?"  asked  the  woman.  "Then  have 
you  no  footboard?" 

Markus  set  his  coffee  down  among  the  clean  drinking- 
glasses,  on  a  little  table,  and  sat  down  beside  it,  while  the 
maid  was  cutting  the  slices  of  bread. 

Then  Johannes  and  he  regarded  each  other  with  a  look 
full  of  complete,  mutual  understanding.  In  his  earnest, 
musical  voice  Markus  had  spoken  lightly,  and  easily,  with- 
out conveying  to  the  others  any  particular  meaning.  But 
that  they  listened  eagerly  was  apparent.  Whenever  his  voice 
was  heard,  others  usually  stopped  speaking;  and  the  least 
thing  he  said,  in  jest  or  in  earnest,  was  listened  to  with  respect- 
ful attention. 

"Yes,  you  see,"  said  Markus,  "I  still  have  a  cart  with  a 
footboard.     But  nowadays  there  are  much   finer  ones  with 


THE    QUEST  151 

window-glass  upon  them,  and  a  big  wheel  which  another  has 
to  turn." 

"Gracious!"  said  the  bar-mistress,  "so  you're  getting  up 
in  the  world,  Markus!  Sure,  you've  had  a  legacy,  or  a  lucky 
lottery  ticket." 

"No,  Vrouw  Schimmel,  but  I  thought  this;  your  standing 
is  good,  of  late,  and  as  you  have  to  go  to  the  banker's  now, 
with  your  money,  you  might  loan  me,  say,  a  hundred  and 
fifty  guldens,  and  I'll  repay  the  loan  at  the  rate  of  a  gulden  a 
week.     How  will  that  do  .f"' 

The  woman  stopped  working  and  laughed.  The  mistress 
laughed,  too,  and  cried:  "You're  a  regular  Jew!"  and,  after 
having  sauntered  back  and  forth  a  while,  she  said: 

"All  right  —  begin  now  and  here!  Sharpen  these  knives, 
and  mind  you  make  them  sharp  as  razors!" 

After  Markus  and  Johannes  had  eaten  their  bread,  the  old 
cart  was  dragged  out  of  the  shed  and  dusted  off,  the  axles 
oiled,  the  rope  moistened,  and  the  knives  were  sharpened. 
Johannes  watched  attentively,  and  saw  how  swiftly  and  skil- 
fully Markus  turned  and  directed  the  steel  until  it  was  sharp 
and  bright,  and  how  the  golden  fountain  of  sparks  flew  over 
the  whizzing  wheel. 

Afterward  they  went  together  up  the  street,  for  it  was  neces- 
sary to  earn  some  money. 

Markus  stepped  slowly  wheeling  his  cart  through  the 
sunny  streets  —  alive  with  people.  From  time  to  time  his 
"Scissors  to  Gri-i-i-nd!"  rang  out  above  the  tramp  of  feet  and 
the  rattle  of  wagons,  while  he  looked  searchingly  right  and 
left  to  see  if  there  was  not  some  one  who  had  something  to  be 
sharpened.  Johannes  ran  ahead,  to  ring  the  bells  of  all  the 
houses,  and  to  bring  the  knives  and  scissors  out  to  the 
cart. 

Johannes  did  his  very  best.  He  felt  that  only  now  had  life 
begun  in  real  earnest.  For  one's  bread  one  must  work,  and 
earn   money.      He  had    never  yet   thought   about   money   and 


152  THEQUEST 

money-making;  but  the  reality  was  stern  and  sobering.  Every 
one  around  him  talked  about  money  and  money-getting. 
Yet  his  noble  Guide,  he  saw,  was  poor  and  shabby  —  forced 
to  hard  and  constant  labor  to  keep  from  starving.  Life  grew 
serious  indeed. 

They  said  but  little  to  each  other.  They  were  too  busy. 
Johannes  enjoyed  the  work.  He  felt  there  was  something 
heroic  and  important  in  the  fact  that  he,  the  young  gentleman 
who  had  been  to  a  superior  school  here,  was  now  going  around 
as  a  scissors-grinder's  boy.  And  when  the  housemaids,  some- 
what surprised,  looked  at  his  neat  little  suit,  he  carried  it  more 
jauntily.  But  the  meeting  with  an  old  schoolmate  was  full 
of  pain. 

Toward  twelve  o'clock  he  grew  tired  and  hungry.  In 
passing  by  the  bakeries  he  had  a  feeling  now  that  he  had  never 
known  before  —  almost  peevishness  —  as  if  something  had 
been  taken  away  from  him  —  as  if  that  bread  were  his  by 
very  right. 

Then  they  came  to  the  circus,  where  Marjon  was.  And 
there  she  sat,  with  her  dark-eyed  sister.  Her  flaxen  hair  was 
now  braided  and  wound  around  her  head. 

Johannes  heard  the  sound  of  an  iron  kettle  being  shaken, 
and  he  knew  that  that  meant  potatoes.  And  there  was  bacon, 
also,  and  some  boiled  vegetables.  At  first,  these  things  were 
of  prime  importance  to  him.  He  could  think  of  nothing  else 
until  he  had  eaten  —  ravenously.  Then,  rather  ashamed, 
he  glanced  up. 

They  were  sitting  out-of-doors,  in  the  rear  of  the  tents  and 
the  booths,  with  an  awning  stretched  out  over  their  heads  to 
protect  them  from  the  sun,  which  was  shining  fiercely  and 
brightly.  Close  by  stood  the  circus-wagon  —  painted  green, 
with  variegated  red  and  white  trimmings.  A  canary's  cage 
stood  upon  the  platform,  between  flower-pots,  and  the  yellow 
bird  was  singing  merrily. 

Johannes  thought  it  fine  and  good  now  to  be  among  people. 
There  sat  the  bright  little  being  with  the  pale  face,  the  large 


THEQUEST  153 

grey  eyes,  and  the  ash-blonde  hair —  braided  and  wound  Hke 
a  diadem  about  her  head.  It  seemed  to  Johannes  as  if  a 
brilliant  light  streamed  out  from  her;  a  light  which  tasted 
sweet,  and  smelled  sweet  also.  And  could  she  not  ride  a 
horse,  and  spring  through  hoops,  and  with  those  slender 
hands  throw  plates  up  high,  and  catch  and  balance  them  ? 
And  she  looked  often  at  Johannes,  and  seemed  to  find  him  a 
nice  little  boy. 

Beside  her,  calm  and  serious,  his  head  bent  forward,  his 
dark  hair  curling  in  his  neck,  sat  Markus,  eating.  This  made 
him  seem  to  Johannes  still  more  dear  and  intimate. 

Next,  sat  Marjon's  sister.  Johannes  felt  a  little  uneasy 
in  her  presence.  She  sat  close  by  him,  and  ate  very  audibly. 
She  shoveled  food  upon  Johannes'  plate,  and  now  and  then 
patted  him  on  the  shoulder,  to  encourage  him  to  eat.  Then 
she  looked  at  him,  kindly  enough,  but  with  a  cold  penetration 
as  if  with  some  fixed  purpose.  Her  eyes  seemed  almost 
black,  and  her  glossy  hair  was  as  black  as  ebony.  But  her 
skin  was  waxy  white.  Whenever  she  stirred,  something  in 
her  clothing  always  creaked,  and  there  was  a  heavy  odor  of 
perfumery  about  her. 

Beyond  Marjon  sat  the  little  monkey,  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  steel  forks  with  his  sharp,  earnest  eyes.  Occa- 
sionally Marjon  spoke  to  him,  and  then  he  whined  in  eager 
expectation  of  something  to  eat. 

That  quarter  of  an  hour  was  delightful!  Johannes  looked 
repeatedly  at  Marjon,  trying  to  think  who  she  looked  like,  and 
why  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  have  known  her  a  long  time.  And 
he  found  it  pleasant  and  adorable  when  she  spoke  to  him,  and 
was  as  confidential  as  if  with  a  friend.  Yes,  he  remembered 
something  of  that  old  sensation  with  Windekind  —  the  feeling 
of  friendship  and  intimacy.  But  he  could  well  see  that  she 
did  not  resemble  Windekind.  He  noticed  that  her  nails  were 
not  very  clean,  and  admitted  that  she  did  make  use  of  coarse 
and  profane  language.  Yet  her  speech  was  not  flat,  but 
musical  —  with  a  foreign  accent;  and  her  bearing  was  nearly 


154  THEQUEST 

always  winsome,  although  she  did  things  considered  bad 
manners  —  things  never  permitted  him. 

The  afternoon  which  now  followed,  filled  with  the  same 
sort  of  work  —  continually  running  back  and  forth  across  the 
sunny  streets  —  seemed  hard  indeed.  At  last  he  could  not 
think  any  more,  and  his  feet  burned  fiercely.  Sad  and  per- 
plexed he  sat  down  on  a  stone  stoop  as  the  shadows  grew  deeper 
and  cooler,  and  thought  of  the  gloomy  garret  where  he  was 
again  to  sleep. 

"Come,  Johannes."  The  day's  money  is  nearly  earned, 
and  then  we  go  to  Vrouw  Schimmel's  for  our  supper." 

"How  much  have  we  earned  .''"  asked  Johannes;  expecting 
to  hear,  to  his  consolation,  of  the  riches  which  he  had  procured 
by  his  hard  work. 

"Two  guldens,  forty-seven  cents,"  said  Markus. 

"Is  that  enough  V 

"So  long  as  we  can  sleep  for  nothing  at  Vrouw  Schimmel's 
and  can  eat  for  nothing  at  the  circus.  But  we  cannot  do  that 
every  day." 

Johannes  felt  greatly  discouraged.  Already  so  tired,  and 
so  little  accomplished!  Not  enough  earned  yet  for  one  day's 
support!  How  would  he  ever  have  enough  strength  left  over 
to  help  the  people  ?  With  his  head  in  his  hands  he  sat  staring 
vacantly  at  the  pavement. 

"Tired  ?"  asked  Markus,  gently.  Johannes  nodded.  Mar- 
kus spoke  again: 

"But  remember,  my  boy!  This  is  your  first  day.  It  will 
be  easier  after  you  get  used  to  it." 

Johannes  lifted  his  weary,  disheartened  eyes,  and  looked  at 
his  Guide  who  was  patiently  engaged  in  putting  something 
about  the  cart-axle  to  rights. 

"It  is  not  your  first  day,  though,  Markus,  is  it?  It  can 
never  be  any  easier  for  you.  And  that  ought  not  to  be  so. 
It  will  never  do." 

A  strange  bitterness  of  thought  took  possession  of  Johannes 
—  as  if  everything  were  full  of  fraud   and   foolishness  —  as 


THEQUEST  155 

if  he  himself  were  made  a  fool  of.  What  sort  of  fellow 
was  that,  with  the  long  hair,  the  silly  old  cap,  and  frayed-out 
trousers,  who  sat  there,  pottering  ? 

Markus  glanced  round  and  looked  at  him.  Immediately 
Johannes  grew  ashamed  of  his  thoughts  and  felt  a  deep,  over- 
mastering sorrow  and  sympathy,  that  He  —  He  who  was 
standing  there  before  him,  was  obliged  to  toil  so  —  in  poverty 
and  squalor. 

This  time  he  burst  into  unrestrained  sobs,  he  was  both  so 
tired  and  so  over-excited.  Weeping,  he  could  only  utter, 
"Why  isit  ?     I  cannot  understand.     It  will  never  —  never! — " 

Markus  did  not  attempt  to  console  him;  he  meiely  said 
gently  but  firmly  that  he  must  wheel  the  cart  and  go  home, 
for  people  were  observing  them. 

Johannes  went  early  to  bed,  and  his  Guide  went  with  him. 
The  din  from  below  came  up  to  them,  as  before,  and  the 
moon  shone  brightly  into  the  little  garret.  The  two  friends 
lay  upon  their  hard  mattresses,  hand  in  hand,  talking  together 
in  an  undertone.  They  did  not  use  the  careless  common- 
places of  every-day  speech,  but  they  spoke  as  Johannes  had 
done  with  Windekind;  —  in  the  old,  serious  way. 

"When  I  look  at  you,  my  brother,  what  is  it  makes  me  feel 
so  sad.?"  asked  Johannes.  When  I  see  your  shabby  clothes 
and  blackened  hands;  v/hen  I  hear  you  addressed  as  comrade 
by  those  poor  and  filthy  people;  when  I  see  you  sharing  their 
hard,  unlovely  life,  then  I  cannot  keep  from  crying.  I  am 
sorry  I  gave  way  to  my  feelings,  and  attracted  attention,  but 
then  it  is  so  dreadful!" 

"It  is  dreadful,  Johannes,  not  on  my  account,  but  because 
of  the  necessity  for  it." 

"How  can  there  be  any  need  of  your  being  so  plain  and 
sad?     Is  there  anything  good  in  plainness  and  sadness?" 

"No,  Johannes;  plainness  and  sadness  are  evils.  The 
beautiful  and  the  joyful  only  are  good,  and  it  is  they  we  must 
seek." 

"But,  dear  brother,  you  may  be  both  beautiful  and  joyful. 


156  THEQUEST 

Indeed,  what  is  there  you  cannot  be  ?  I  saw  you  walking 
upon  the  shining  waters.     That  surely  was  no  illusion  ?" 

"No,  that  was  no  illusion." 

"I  saw  only  your  face  —  not  your  clothing;  only  your  face, 
and  that  was  beautiful  and  noble.  And  if  you  can  walk  upon 
the  sea,  then  you  can,  if  you  wish  to,  be  beautiful  and  grand 
and  joyful,  even  among  those  ugly  people." 

"Yes,  I  can  do  that  also,  Johannes,  but  I  will  not  do  it, 
because  I  love  those  plain  and  sorrowful  people.  I  will  do 
much  more,  just  because  so  much  power  has  been  given  me. 
I  will  be  a  brother  to  them,  so  that  they  may  learn  to  know 
me. 

"Must  you,  for  that  reason,  be  low  in  station  and  be  sor- 
rowful ?" 

"  I  am  not  of  low  degree,  nor  am  I  sorrowful.  My  spirits 
are  high  and  my  heart  is  glad:  and  because  I  am  so  strong  I 
can  stoop  to  those  who  are  lowly  and  sad,  in  order  that  they 
may  attain  me,  and  with  me,  the  Light." 

In  the  dark  —  eyes  shut  close  —  Johannes  nodded  his 
satisfaction,  and  then  fell  asleep,  his  hand  still  in  that  of  his 
friend. 


Ill 

At  the  end  of  the  week,  the  bell  rang  from  noon  until  one 
o'clock,  to  announce  the  closing  of  the  Fair.  The  tent  can- 
vases remained  fastened  down,  and  the  performances  were 
hurriedly  broken  off.  The  stakes  and  boards  were  loaded 
upon  the  boats  lying  in  the  canal;  and  there  the  wooden  lions 
of  the  merry-go-rounds  made  a  sorry  figure.  They  bore  no 
resemblance  whatever  to  the  lively,  furious  lions  of  the  day 
before;  and  one  could  hardly  tell  what  had  become  of  all  that 
motley  and  magnificent  array. 

The  real,  living  lions,  and  the  people,  in  their  different 
vehicles,  went  up  the  street,  in  a  long  caravan,  to  the  next 
town  where  the  Fair  was  to  begin  anew;  for  the  summer  is  one 
long  Fair  for  the  Fair-folk. 

Days  before,  Johannes  and  Markus  had  passed  through 
that  same  street;  for  with  their  heavy  cart,  they  would  have 
been  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  more  rapid,  horse-drawn 
vehicles.  The  weather  remained  fine  and  clear.  The  walks 
along  the  road  from  village  to  village,  with  the  excitement  of 
finding  work  and  earning  money  —  the  restings  on  the  sunny, 
grassy  wayside  —  the  baths  in  retired  spots  —  and  now 
and  then  coffee  in  the  kitchens  of  the  farmhouses  —  all  this 
was  new,  pleasant,  and  stimulating,  and  Johannes  grew  light- 
hearted  and  merry  again. 

Close  by  the  next  town  the  circus  overtook  them.  It  was 
only  a  mite  of  a  company.  The  big  white  horse  was  drawing 
the  green  wagon,  and  two  black-and-white  spotted  horses 
were  drawing  the  second  one.  The  ring-master  walked 
beside  it,  swearing  now,  not  joking,  and  wearing  a  very  sour 
face.  Then  came  a  couple  of  men  and  some  loose  horses,  in 
the   rear. 

Johannes  lay  in  the  grass  on  the  lookout  for  Marjon.  There 
she  came,  in  her  hand  a  big   branch   of  alder   leaves,  with 

IS? 


158  THEQUEST 

which    she   was    brushing    away    the    flies    from    the   white 
horse. 

She  was  walking  on  dreamily,  with  only  an  indifferent  look 
at  the  staring  peasant  children  along  the  way.  But  when  she 
saw  Johannes,  her  eyes  grew  big  and  bright,  and  she  waved 
her  branch  at  him. 

He  sprang  up  and  ran  to  her,  and  she  struck  at  him  play- 
fully with  her  alder  branch.  Then,  with  a  sudden  charming 
movement,  she  gave  him  a  kiss.  Johannes  kissed  her  bash- 
fully in  return.  The  peasant  children  were  astonished,  but 
circus  folk  are  always  queer! 

From  between  the  muslin  curtains  of  the  little  window  in 
the  green  wagon,  Johannes  saw  two  jet-black  eyes  peeping  at 
him.  They  were  the  eyes  of  Marjon's  sister,  and  they  wore  a 
strange  smile. 

Johannes  and  Marjon  walked  on,  hand  in  hand,  chatting 
busily  about  the  experiences  of  the  past  few  days.  And  while 
Marjon  told  of  her  performances  —  how  she  had  learned  her 
tricks,  and  how  often,  too,  she  had  fallen  - —  he  listened  as 
deferentially  as  if  he  were  being  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  a  princely  court   or  of  the  national  government. 

Walking  thus  hand  in  hand  beside  the  white  horse,  they 
approached  the  town.  By  the  wayside,  with  projecting 
tea-arbors,  and  well-planned  gardens,  stood  those  low,  wide 
country-seats  which  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  towns  of  Holland.  They  bear  such  names  as  "Rust- 
oord,"  *  or  "  Nooit-gedacht,"  *  and  make  one  think  of 
ancient  times  when  the  burghers  went  out  to  walk,  with  their 
Gouda*  pipes,  and  when  the  fragrant  violets  still  grew  upon 
the  ramparts. 

Between  the  windows  of  these  houses,  fastened  to  a  curved 
iron  rod,  are  little  mirrors,  in  which  the  inmates,  seated  by 
the  window,  are  able  to  see  any  one  standing  on  the  stoop, 
or  approaching  from  a  distance.  They  are  called  "  spionnet- 
jes."  The  passer-by  sees  in  this  glass  only  the  face  of  the 
indweller. 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


THE    QUEST  159 

In  one  of  these  little  spyglasses  Johannes  suddenly  saw  a 
face  that  startled  him.  Yet  it  was  not  a  frightful  counte- 
nance. It  was  pale  and  spectacled,  with  two  stiff  "puffs" 
on  each  side.  A  lace  cap  crowned  the  whole,  with  lavender 
ribbons  falling  over  the  ears  down  to  the  shoulders.  Two 
very  clear,  kindly,  serious  eyes  were  looking  straight  at  him. 
Johannes  was  startled,  because  he  knew  the  face  so  well.  It 
was  that  of  his  aunt. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it  —  it  was  Aunt  Serena.  She 
had  often  been  to  visit  at  his  home,  and  now  Johannes  remem- 
bered the  house  where  she  lived.  He  had  even  spent  the  night 
there.  He  cast  a  shy  glance  toward  it.  Yes,  to  be  sure! 
That  was  the  one-story,  white  stucco  house,  with  the  low 
windows,  and  the  glass  doors  opening  on  the  garden.  He 
remembered  the  garden,  with  the  splendid  beech-trees.  Be- 
tween the  house  and  the  road  was  a  green  ditch,  and  on 
the  fancy  iron  railing  was  the  name  ''  Vrede-best."  He  re- 
called it  all  very  well  now,  and  it  made  him  uneasy  and  anxious. 

"What  makes  you  so  white,  Jo  ?"  asked  Marjon.  "Aren't 
you  well  ? " 

"An  aunt  of  mine  lives  there,"  said  Johannes,  blushing 
deeply  now. 

"Did  she  see  you  ?"  asked  Marjon,  quickly  perceiving  the 
significance  of  the  event. 

"She  surely  did." 

"Don't  look  round,"  said  Marjon.  "Cut  around  the 
corner!     Can  she  do  anything  to  you  ?" 

Johannes  had  not  thought  about  that,  at  all.  He  owned  to 
himself,  that  while  his  Aunt  Serena  was  looking  at  him,  he  felt 
ashamed  of  being  seen  with  the  circus-wagon,  but  he  said 
nothing,  and  grasped  Marjon's  hand  again,  for  he  had  let  it  drop. 

Fortunately  Markus  did  not  tell  him  to  ask  if  there  was 
anything  at  "Vrede-best"  to  be  sharpened. 

But  that  pale  face,  with  the  puffs,  the  spectacles,  the  clear 
eyes,  as  seen  in  the  little  mirror,  continued  to  follow  Johannes 
in  a  very  disconcerting  way.     The  reflector  was  double,  and 


i6o  THEQUEST 

Johannes  felt  certain  that  his  aunt  now  sat  before  the  other 
side,  and  that  the  fixed  eyes  were  watching  him. 

"Have  you  any  aunts,  Marjon  ?" 

"How  do  I  know?     Maybe,"  laughed  Marjon. 

"Your  father,  then  ?  —  Is  he  dead  ?" 

Marjon  lowered  her  voice  a  little,  and,  in  a  more  serious 
manner,  began  a  confidential  explanation  of  an  important 
matter:  "I  do  not  know,  Jo.  My  mother  is  dead.  She  was 
a  lion-tamer,  and  met  with  an  accident.  She  is  buried  in 
Keulen;  but  my  father  was  rich,  and  he  may  be  living  still. 
So  you  see  I  may  have  aunts  —  a  lot  of  them  —  rich  ones, 
perhaps." 

"Have  you  never  seen  your  father?"  asked  Johannes, 
speaking  softly  himself,  now. 

"No,  never!  But  Lorum  says  "  (Lorum  was  the  ring- 
master) "that  he  was  a  count  and  had  a  castle." 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  said  Johannes,  looking  at  her 
admiringly. 

"Yes,  but  Lorum  tells  lies." 

That  cast  a  shadow  over  Johannes'  beautiful  imaginings. 
Later,  he  often  had  occasion  to  experience  the  untruthfulness 
of  Lorum. 

It  was  a  hot  noon-time  when  they  entered  the  town.  Those 
afoot  were  tired  and  irritable,  and  the  customary  visit  to  the 
municipal  authorities  concerning  positions  was  attended  with 
no  little  quarreling  and  swearing.  The  empty,  darkened 
parlors  of  the  stately  houses  looked  cool  and  alluringly 
tranquil.  Bright  housemaids  came  to  the  doors  to  see  the 
circus-troup  go  by,  and  they  chatted  and  giggled  with  one 
another. 

Outside  the  town  a  large,  grass-grown  place  was  pointed 
out,  where  the  dwelling-wagons  might  stand.  So  they  were 
all  in  a  circle  —  twenty  or  more  of  them  —  from  the  big,  two- 
horsed  leading  wagons,  freshly  painted,  with  dainty  curtains, 
flower-pots,  gilded  decorations,  bird-cages  and  carvings,  to 
the  rickety,  home-made  wagons,  constructed  of  old  boards, 


THE    QUEST  i6i 

patched  up  with  bits  of  canvas  and  sheet-iron,  and  drawn  by 
a  man  and  a  dog. 

And  now  the  steaming  dust-covered  horses  were  unhar- 
nessed, the  hay  and  straw  —  which  had  been  pilfered  or  begged 
—  spread  out,  fires  were  started,  and  preparations  made  for 
a  hasty  meal.  It  was  a  lively,  bustling  camp.  Markus  was 
there,  too.  His  new  scissors-cart  with  its  window-glass 
stood  beside  Marjon's  wagon  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  He 
was  thoughtfully  walking  around  among  the  people  with 
Johannes,  exchanging  greetings  with  everybody,  and  carrying 
on  brief  conversations.  His  raincoat  and  cap  were  packed 
away,  but  his  coat  and  trousers  were  the  same,  for  he  had  no 
others.  He  had  on  now  a  very  broad-brimmed  straw  hat, 
such  as  can  be  purchased  at  the  Fairs  for  two  stuivers. 
Johannes  much  preferred  to  see  him  in  this,  and  was  pleased 
to  note  how  the  hat  became  his  long,  dark  hair. 

Wherever  Markus  came,  things  went  better.  Disputes 
filled  the  air,  and  shocking  language  was  to  be  heard  on  every 
side,  even  from  the  lips  of  the  children.  But  when  Markus 
appeared  they  calmed  down,  and  threats  and  quarrels  were 
soon  exorcised.  Not  having  been  seen  in  a  long  while,  he 
was  greeted  with  hearty  exclamations  of  surprise,  and  with  all 
sorts  of  questions  which  he  answered  jestingly. 

"Hello,  Vis!  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself? 
Have  you  been  under  water?" 

"At  court.  Dirk  Volders.  See  what  a  fine  present  I  have 
brought  away."     And  he  pointed  out  the  new  cart. 

"Surely,  you've  been  sharpening  the  coupon-scissors  again, 
haven't  you  ?" 

"No,  the  nail-scissors.  Dirk,  and  it's  time  to  do  it  here." 

Wherever  Markus  went,  a  troop  of  children  followed  him 
Without  apparent  reason,  or  any  expectation  of  delicacies, 
always  several  children  tagged  untiringly  after  him,  an  hour 
at  a  time,  clinging  fast,  with  their  dirty  little  hands,  to  a  shred 
of  his  coat  or  a  fold  of  his  trousers.  With  earnest  faces  they 
listened  to  his  words  and  watched  his  movements,  quietly 


i62  THEQUEST 

managing  the  while  to  usurp  one  another's  place  at  the  front. 
Whoever  could  catch  hold  of  his  coat  held  on.  Wherever  he 
went,  the  ragged,  unwashed  little  ones,  from  under  wagons 
and  behind  boxes,  put  in  an  appearance  —  trotting  after,  so 
as  to  be  on  hand.  There  was  always  a  chance  of  his  suddenly 
throwing  himself  down  and  telling  a  story  to  a  dozen  dirty 
little  listeners.  Their  small  mouths,  all  smeared  and  stained, 
were  wide  open  with  interest,  and  their  hands,  furnished 
with  a  bread-crust  or  an  old  doll,  hung  down  motionless, 
as  they  listened  in  suspense.  And  no  one  had  ever  surprised 
Markus  in  a  peevish  or  impatient  word  to  his  troublesome 
little  admirers.  Not  one  of  the  surly,  scolding  parents  had 
ever  been  able  to  admit  to  a  child  that  it  was  naughty  enough 
for  Markus,  even,  to  send  it  away. 

Johannes  observed  this  with  great  admiration.  At  first  it 
seemed  to  him  wonderful  —  supernatural.  A  whimpering, 
naughty  child  became  submissive,  a  troublesome  one  tractable, 
and  rude,  unmannerly,  and  passionate  children  went  away 
composed  and  quiet.  And  how  could  any  one  remain  patient 
under  such  a  continual  din,  and  tagged  after  by  the  dirtiest 
and  the  worst-behaved  children  in  the  world  ?  But,  listening 
and  keenly  scrutinizing,  Johannes  gradually  came  to  under- 
stand the  apparently  incomprehensible.  It  was  the  power  of 
the  interest  in  them  which  performed  the  miracle.  There 
was  nothing  concerning  those  neglected  little  waifs  in  which 
Markus  did  not  evidence  the  keenest  interest,  and  he  gave  it 
his  fullest  attention  —  sparing  no  trouble  nor  exertion.  Thus 
the  roving  mind  of  the  child  was  at  the  same  time  pacified  and 
restrained,  and  reduced  to  a  state  favorable  for  guidance. 
But,  however  he  himself  might  explain  it,  the  parents  who 
were  unable  to  control  their  children  maintained  that  Markus 
had  something  in  his  eyes,  or  in  his  fingers  —  a  "  magic,"  they 
called  it  —  by  which  he  ruled  the  children.  And  these  con- 
victions grew  still  more  settled  through  the  knowledge  of  the 
willing  and  blessed  help  he  gave  to  the  sick. 

There   prevailed   among  these   people   a   great   distrust  of 


THE    QUEST  163 

physicians,  and  the  one  grievance  they  had  against  Markus 
was  that  he  too  often  (according  to  their  views)  referred  the 
sick  to  the  doctor  and  the  hospital.  "  He  can  do  it  better 
himself,"  they  thought.  "  He  surely  is  afraid  of  getting  into 
jail."  Yet  they  begrudged  the  police  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
him  there.  But  they  tried  to  induce  Markus  to  help  them 
in  every  illness  —  even  that  of  a  broken  bone  —  without  their 
having  recourse  to  doctor  or  hospital.  In  cases  where  the 
sick  body  could  do  without  the  relief  of  costly  attendance  and 
technical  apparatus,  Markus  did  not  refuse  to  help  with  his 
simple  expedients.  It  was  said  that  he  was  a  healer,  yet  no 
one  had  ever  seen  or  heard  him  pray  beside  a  sick  person. 
He  sometimes  sat  for  a  long  time,  deep  in  thought,  by  the  side 
of  a  sufferer  who  was  restless,  or  in  pain.  He  would  lay  his 
hand  upon  the  head,  or  the  affected  part,  or  take  the  hand  of 
the  patient.  This  he  would  sometimes  do  hour  after  hour, 
and  he  seldom  left  without  having  reduced  the  pain  and  rest- 
lessness. 

Johannes  had  already  heard  this  related  by  Marjon,  and 
now  he  also  saw  mothers  bringing  their  crying  infants  to  him 
for  advice,  and  he  gave  eager  attention  to  what  Markus  would 
say. 

A  baby  screamed  and  wriggled  like  a  worm,  resisting  ve- 
hemently, for  it  dreaded  the  light,  and  wanted  to  hide  its 
affected  eyes  in  the  mother's  arms.  But  Markus  insisted  on 
examining  the  poor  little  eyes.  They  were  all  stuck  together 
with  foulness,  and  were  red  and  swollen, 

Johannes  expected  nothing  else  than  that  Markus  would 
anoint  them  and  command  them  to  open.     But  Markus  said: 

"That's  a  loathsome  lot  of  stuff,  mother.  There  is  a  good 
eye-clinic  in  Leyden.  But  there  is  also  a  good  one  here.  Go 
to  it  soon  —  now  —  to-day. " 

The  mother,  a  strong,  bony  woman,  looked  at  him  through 
her  straggling  hair,  in  an  irresolute,  dissatisfied  way. 

"Curse  'em  —  those  quacks!  You  do  it  instead.  You 
can  do  it  just  as  well." 


i64  THEQUEST 

"I'll  not  do  it,  mother,  positively.  And  think  of  it!  If 
you  do  not  go  quickly,  your  child  will  surely  be  stark  blind. 
Go!     It  is  your  duty  to." 

"How  is  it,  Markus  ?  Can't  you  do  it,  or  don't  you  dare  to, 
that  you  send  me  off  to  those  murderers  ?" 

Markus  regarded  her  several  moments,  and  then  said, 
gently:  "Mother,  it  is  your  own  fault  —  you  know  it  very 
well.  I  may  not  give  you  help,  but  it  is  not  on  account  of 
the  police.  There  in  the  town  they  will  give  you  good 
advice.  But  go  now,  quickly,  or  the  blindness  of  your  child 
will  be  upon  your  conscience." 

With  a  sullen  look  the  woman  turned  away,  and  Johannes 
asked  in  a  whisper:  "Are  these  doctors  more  clever  than 
Markus  ?" 

"They  know  enough  for  this,"  said  Markus,  abruptly. 


IV 

In  the  heat  of  the  afternoon  the  Fair-folk  went  to  sleep.  They 
lay  snoring  everywhere  —  on  straw  or  heaps  of  rags,  in  ugly, 
ungainly  postures.  But  the  children  continued  in  motion, 
and  often  here  and  there  the  sound  of  their  teasing  and  crying 
could  be  heard. 

Johannes  strolled  around  dejectedly.  To  go  and  lie  calmly 
down,  to  sleep  between  those  vile  men,  as  Markus  did,  was 
impossible.  Rank  odors  pervaded  everything,  and  he  was 
afraid,  too,  of  vermin.  Should  he  go  walk  in  the  town  park, 
or  between  the  sunny  polders  ?  Although  he  was  ashamed  to 
run  away,  he  could  not  remain  in  peace.  Again  that  frightful 
feeling  arose,  of  unfitness  for  his  great  task.  He  was  too 
weak  —  too   sensitive. 

He  thought,  with  a  painful  longing,  of  the  cool,  stately,  and 
peaceful  parlors  in  the  houses  of  the  town,  with  furniture 
neatly  dusted  by  tidy  maids.  He  thought,  too,  of  Aunt  Serena 
and  her  pretty,  old-fashioned  house,  and  of  her  large,  shady 
garden,  where  surely  the  raspberries  were  now  ripe. 

Strolling  moodily  along,  he  came  upon  the  green  wagon,  and 
behold,  there  was  Marjon,  lying  in  peaceful  sleep.  She  lay  on 
a  shaggy,  red-and-yellow  horse-blanket,  and  her  lean  arms  and 
scrawny  neck  were  bare.  She  was  so  still  —  her  knees  drawn 
up  and  her  cheek  in  her  hand  —  that  one  could  not  tell  whether 
she  was  really  sleeping,  or  lying  awake  with  closed  eyes. 

The  monkey  sat  close  beside  her  in  the  hot  sun,  contentedly 
playing  with  a  cocoanut. 

Johannes  felt  touched,  and  went  to  sit  down  against  the  wheel 
of  the  wagon.  Looking  intently  at  the  dear  little  girl,  he 
thought  over  her  troubled,  wandering  life. 

In  thinking  of  that  he  forgot  his  own  grief;  and  from  the 
depths  of  his  discontent  he  passed  over  to  a  mood  of  tender 
melancholy  full  of  compassion.     And  then  there  awakened  in 

i6s 


i66  THEQUEST 

him  words  which  he  was  careful  to  remember.  He  thought 
of  a  butterfly  that  he  had  once  seen  flying  seaward  over  the 
strand;  and  thinking  of  Marjon  he  said  to  himself: 

"Out  to  the  sea  a  white  butterfly  passed  — 
It  looked  at  the  sunshine,  not  at  the  shore; 
Now  it  must  flutter  in  every  blast, 
And  may  rest  never  more." 

As  he  repeated  those  last  words  he  was  greatly  moved,  and 
tears  coursed  down  his  cheeks.  He  repeated  the  lines,  over 
and  over,  adding  new  ones  to  them,  and  ended  by  losing 
himself  wholly  in  this  sweet  play. 

Thus  the  summer  afternoon  sped  quickly,  and  Johannes 
went  to  the  wagon  for  pencil  and  paper,  to  write  down  the 
thoughts  which  had  come  into  his  head.  He  was  afraid  they 
might  escape. 

"What  are  you  doing.?"  asked  Marjon,  waking  up.  "Are 
you   sketching  meV 

"I  am  making  verses,"  said  Johannes. 

Marjon  had  to  see  the  verses,  and  when  she  had  read  them 
she  wanted  to  sing  them.  Taking  from  the  wagon  a  zither, 
she  began  to  hum  softly,  while  trying  to  find  the  chords. 
Johannes  waited  in  suspense. 

At  last  Marjon  found  a  sad  yet  fervent  melody,  that  sounded 
to  Johannes  like  one  well  known  to  him  of  old;  and  together 
they  sang  the  song: 

"Out  to  the  sea  a  white  butterfly  passed  — 

It  looked  at  the  sun,  but  at  the  shore,  never; 
Now  it  must  flutter  in  every  blast. 
Nor  may  rest,  ever. 

"Oh,  butterfly,  little  butterfly. 

Seeking  everysvhere  for  your  valley  fair. 
Never,  ah,  never  again  will  you  spy 

The  shady  dell,  where  sweet  flow'rs  dwell. 


THE    QUEST  167 

**  By  wild  winds  driven  out  to  sea, 

Floating  on  sunshine  far  from  the  shore, 
Evermore  she  a-wing  now  must  be. 
And  can  rest,  never. 

"Oh,  butterfly,  lovely  butterfly! 

Through  sunny  blue,  or  shadowy  grey, 
Never  again  shall  you  descry 

That  leafy  dell  where  the  roses  dwell." 

The  children  sang  it  once,  twice,  three  times  through;  for 
those  who  had  been  awakened  listened  and  asked  for  a 
repetition.  Like  a  sudden  illumination  of  sense  and  soul 
there  came  to  Johannes  the  consciousness  of  having  done 
something  good.  The  poor,  vile,  neglected  people  —  adults 
and  children  —  had  listened.  He  had  made  it,  and  it  had 
given  him  happiness;  now  it  seemed  also  to  afford  these 
sorrowful  people  some  pleasure.  This  made  him  glad.  It 
was  not  much,  but  then  he  could  do  something. 

Night  came;  the  air  grew  cooler,  a  fresh  wind  blew  in  from  the 
sea  over  the  grassy  polders,  and  a  rosy  mist  hungover  the  dunes. 
The  broad  canal  along  which  the  camp  lay  was  sparkling  in  the 
sunset  light.  Everywhere  noises  awoke,  and  from  the  town  came 
the  twilight  sounds  of  hand-organs  and  the  rattling  of  carts. 

The  Fair-people  formed  a  ring,  and,  eager  for  more  music, 
besought  Markus  to  play  for  them. 

Markus  took  a  harmonica,  and  played  all  kinds  of  tunes. 
Men  and  women,  squatting  down,  or  prone  upon  the  ground, 
chin  in  hand,  listened  with  great  earnestness;  and  when  the 
children,  talking  or  loitering,  and  paying  no  attention  to  the 
music,  came  up  to  their  parents,  they  were  impatiently  sent  off. 

When  Markus  stopped,  a  man  cried  out  in  a  husky  voice: 
"Come,  boys,  let's  sing  something  —  The  Song  of  the  Poor 
Customers." 

Instantly,  they  all  fell  in  obediently  —  Markus  striking  the 
key-note  —  and  sang  the  following  song: 


i68  THE    GUEST 

"  We  coatless  wand'rers  without  land, — 
We  are  poor  customers. 
He  who  more  dollars  has  than  wits,  — 
'Tis  he  may  loll  around, 
Tho'  high  we  jump,  or  low  we  jump 
We're  bound  to  lose  the  game. 
With  empty  stomachs  we  must  dance, — 
Our  Ruler  is  the  dollar. 

"  In  olden  times  the  King  was  boss, 
To  rack  us  for  our  sins  ; 
But  now  he's  only  a  figure-head. 
And  has  his  own  boss  found. 
Whoever  crown,  or  scepter  bears. 
And  gorgeous  raiment  wears, — 
Tho'  he  jump  high,  or  jump  less  high, 
He's  ruled  by  the  dollar. 

"  Before  his  men  the  General  stands 
And  tells  'em  how  to  kill. 
The  dapper  heroes  —  one  and  all  — 
Make  haste  to  do  his  will. 
Yet,  in  his  'broidered  uniform. 
The  dickens  !   what  commands  he  ? 
Tho'  he  jump  high  or  jump  less  high 
Th'  Commander  is  —  The  Dollar. 

"Where  lies  our  land  ?  where  spreads  our  roof? 
We  live  by  favor,  only. 
To  them  who  have  but  pelf  in  pocket 
We  show  our  arts  and  tricks. 
But  if  at  last  we  come  to  grief 
There  vet  is  something  for  us, — 
The  fill  of  our  mouths,  a  tasteful  cover, 
And  a  nook  that's  all  our  own. 


THEQUEST  169 

When  the  last  word  of  the  song  had  died  away,  the  husky 
voice  cried:  "You  might  as  well  say,  while  you  are  about  it, 
that  the  churchyards  are  emptied  out  every  tenth  year." 

"Every  twentieth!"  cried  another. 

"Children,"  said  Markus,  setting  his  instrument  upon  the 
ground  between  his  feet,  "children,  now  listen  to  me.  We 
have  been  singing  of  money,  and  of  those  who  had  more 
money  than  sense;  but  have  you  more  sense  than  money  ? 
What  is  it  you  have  that  is  better  than  either?" 

"Only  give  me  the  money,"  cried  the  husky  voice. 

"And  me!"  cried  the  other. 

"I  would  sooner  give  money  to  the  monkey,  who  would 
throw  it  into  the  water,  and  not  get  tipsy  with  it,"  said  Markus. 

"Children,"  he  continued,  and  gradually  Johannes  heard 
that  deep  ring  in  his  voice,  which  riveted  attention  and  caused 
an  inner  thrill,  "where  there  is  gold  without  sense,  there  will 
be  misery;  and  where  there  is  sense,  there  will  be  prosperity. 
For  wisdom  will  not  lack  for  gold. 

"You  truly  are  poor  wretches  —  ill-treated  and  deceived. 

"  But  nobody  receives  what  is  not  his  due.  So  do  not  rage 
and  curse  about  it. 

"He  who  is  wise  is  strong,  and  cannot  be  ill-treated.  The 
wise  one  cannot  be  deceived.  The  wise  one  is  good,  and 
neither  steals  nor  lets  himself  be  stolen  from. 

"You  are  weak  and  foolish;  therefore  you  are  deceived. 

"But  you  cannot  help  it,  poor  children.  I  know  it  well; 
for  the  children  suffer  because  of  what  parents  and  grand- 
parents have  done. 

"But  yet  nobody  receives  what  he  does  not  deserve. 

"We  suffer  for  our  parents  and  grandparents.  Do  not 
call  that  unjust.  The  wise  ones  love  their  parents,  and  will 
redeem  their  wrong-doing. 

"And  we  can  all  make  amends  for  what  our  parents  did 
amiss.  Yes,  we  can  make  amends  to  our  parents  —  even 
now  that  they  are  dead. 

"The  grave   is   not   a   snare,   children,   for  catching  soul- 


lyo  THE    GUEST 

birds.  Father  and  mother  are  living  still,  and  are  benefited 
through  our  efforts. 

"  Make  your  little  ones  good,  then,  for  you  will  have  need 
of  them.  Yes,  those  who  die  like  the  dumb  beasts  —  like 
the  harlots  and  drunkards  —  even  they  will  find  good  children 
most  needful. 

"And  no  one  can  complain  who  fails  of  the  expiation  of  the 
good  children,  nor  is  there  any  one  who  with  their  help  cannot 
grow  wiser. 

"If  two  travelers,  wandering  at  night  in  the  cold  —  the  one 
having  wood,  the  other  matches  —  do  not  understand  each 
other,  both  will  suffer  and  be  lost  in  the  dark. 

"And  if  two  shipwrecked  people  have  between  them  a 
single  cocoanut,  and  one  takes  the  milk  and  the  other  the  meat, 
then  they  both  will  perish  —  one  from  hunger,  the  other  from 
thirst. 

"So,  also,  with  wisdom;  and  no  one  lives  upon  the  earth 
who  can  be  wise  alone." 

Markus'  voice  rang  loud  and  clear,  and  it  was  as  still  as 
death  in  the  sultry  field,  among  those  ragged  people.  For  a 
time  he  was  silent,  and  Johannes  was  so  moved  he  was  softly 
weeping;  although  he  by  no  means  accurately  understood  the 
meaning:  of  the  discourse. 

Finally, the  husky  voice  sounded  again,  but  now  more  gently: 

"Fll  be  darned  if  I  can  make  head  or  tail  of  it;  but  I  take 
it  for  truth." 

"Children,"  said  Markus,  "you  are  not  bound  to  under- 
stand, and  you  are  not  bound  to  believe  me;  but  will  you,  for 
my  sake,  remember  it,  word  for  word,  and  teach  it  to  your 
children  .?     Then  I  will  be  grateful  to  you." 

Softly  rang  the  voices  here  and  there :  "  Yes  —  yes,  indeed ! " 

"Will  you  not  play  some  more?"  asked  a  young  girl  with 
large,  dark  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  will  play,  and  then  you  can  dance,"  said  Markus, 
nodding  kindly. 

Then  he  took  a  violin  from  one  of  the  musicians  and  began 


THE    QUEST  171 

to  play  for  the  dancing  —  such  fine  music  that  the  promenaders 
upon  the  street  along  the  canal  stood  still,  and  remained  to 
listen.  A  magistrate,  who  often  played  piano  and  violin 
duets  with  his  friend  the  notary,  remarked  that  there  must 
be  a  veritable  Zigeuner  among  the  Fair-folk,  since  he  only 
could  play  in  such  a  manner. 

Then,  forming  a  large  circle,  the  people  began  to  dance. 
The  men,  holding  the  maidens  with  stiff  right  arms  under  the 
armpits,  whirled  them  around  in  an  awkward,  woodeny  way. 
They  kept  it  up  until  the  perspiration  streamed  from  their 
red,  earnest  faces.  The  children  and  their  parents  sat  around. 
Occasionally,  also,  songs  were  sung.  There  was  a  good  deal 
of  laughing,  and  they  all  enjoyed  themselves  greatly. 

In  the  midst  of  their  jollity,  two  breathless  children  came 
running  in.  The  larger  was  a  little  girl  of  eight  years,  with  a 
dirty  little  cherub-face,  haloed  with  flaxen  ringlets.  She  had 
on  an  old  pair  of  boy's  trousers,  held  up  by  suspenders,  and 
falling  quite  down  to  her  little  bare  feet,  so  that  in  running  so 
fast  she  nearly  tripped  in  them.  "The  cops!"  cried  the  child, 
panting,  and  the  little  one  cried  after  her:  "The  cops!" 

Johannes  scarcely  comprehended  the  full  import  of  this 
word;  but  it  had  the  effect  upon  the  group  which  the  appear- 
ance of  a  hawk  in  the  upper  air  has  upon  a  flock  of  tomtits, 
or  of  sparrows. 

The  presence  of  one  or  two  watchmen,  or  policemen,  on 
the  road  in  front  of  the  camp  was  nothing  unusual;  but  now 
they  were  coming  in  greater  numbers,  and  conducted  by  a 
dignified  oflficial  in  a  black  coat,  and  with  a  walking-stick  and 
eye-glasses  —  the  mayor,  perchance!  With  that  heroic  tread 
which  indicates  an  exalted  sense  of  duty  he  led  his  men  upon 
the  scene.  The  music  and  noisy  demonstrations  were  struck 
dumb,  the  dancing  stopped,  and  everybody  looked  toward 
the  road  whence  the  common  danger  menaced.  Each  asked 
himself  who  most  probably  would  be  the  victim;  or  considered 
the  possibility  of  a  harmless  retreat  from  the  neighborhood. 


172  THEQUEST 

Johannes  alone  thought  nothing  specially  about  it,  not  com- 
prehending the  extraordinary  concern  of  the  others. 

But,  behold!  After  the  policemen  and  the  presumptive 
mayor  had  stood  a  while  at  the  entrance  to  the  camp,  asking 
information,  they  came  straight  up  to  Marjon's  wagon.  They 
soon  had  their  eyes  on  Marjon  and  Johannes,  and  Johannes  at 
once  felt  that  the  affair  concerned  himself.  He  felt  wretchedly 
ashamed,  and,  although  he  could  not  remember  any  evil  deed, 
he  felt  as  if  he  certainly  must  have  done  something  very  wrong, 
and  that  now  the  law  —  the  Law,  had  come  to  get  him,  and 
to  punish  him. 

''Jimminy,  Johnnie!  Now  you're  in  a  pickle!"  said  Mar- 
jon.    "She's  got  you  in  a  hole." 

"Who?"  asked  Johannes,  all  at  sea,  and  turning  pale. 

"Well,  that  furious  aunt  of  yours,  of  course." 

Johannes  heard  his  name  called,  and  he  was  requested  to 
go  with  them.  While  he  was  hesitating,  in  miserable  silence, 
Marjon's  sister  began  scolding,  in  a  sharp  voice. 

But  the  policemen  acted  as  if  they  did  not  hear  her,  and  the 
chief  began,  in  a  kindly,  admonitory  tone:  "Young  man,  you 
are  a  minor  —  you  must  obey  the  orders  of  your  family. 
Here  you  are  not  in  your  own  station.  Your  aunt  is  a  very 
nice  and  excellent  lady.  You  will  be  much  better  off  with  her 
than  you  are  here.  Your  aunt  is  influential,  and  you  must 
do  what  she  says.     That  is  the  wisest  way." 

In  his  uncertainty,  Johannes  looked  round  at  Markus  and 
asked: 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

Gravely,  without  any  consolation  in  the  look  he  gave 
him,  Markus  said:  "Do  you  think,  Johannes,  that  I  shall 
tell  you  every  time  what  you  ought  to  do  ?  That  would  not 
make  you  any  wiser.  Do  what  seems  to  you  best,  and  do  not 
be  afraid." 

"Come,  boy,  this  isn't  a  matter  of  choice,"  said  the  gentle- 
man with  the  cane.  "You  can't  stay,  and  that's  the  end 
of  it." 


THEQUEST  173 

And  when  Johannes  started  to  follow,  Marjon  threw  her- 
self upon  his  shoulder,  and  began  to  cry.  The  Fair-people 
drew  together  in  groups,  muttering. 

But  Johannes  did  not  cry.  He  was  thinking  of  his  Aunt 
Serena's  tidy  house,  and  of  the  fresh,  spacious  chamber  with 
its  large  bed  curtained  with  green  serge,  and  of  the  big  bed- 
tassel. 

"Cheer  up,  Marjon,"  said  he.  "I'll  not  forget  you.  Good- 
by  till  we  meet  again." 

And  with  the  three  officials  he  went  his  way  to  Vrede-best, 
often  turning  round  to  look  at  the  camp,  and  to  wave  his  hand 
at  the  weeping  Marjon. 


V 

"Well,  well,  Master  Johannes!"  said  Daatje,  the  old  servant, 
as  she  thrust  the  heated  bed-pan  between  the  fresh  linen 
sheets.  "Truly,  that  was  a  blessed  escape  for  you;  like  get- 
ting out  of  purgatory  into  paradise  —  away  from  those  vile 
people  to  be  with  our  mistress.  That  was  fortunate,  indeed. 
My!     My!" 

Damp  sheets  are  dangerous,  even  in  midsummer,  and 
Daatje  had  been  drilled  very  strictly  by  her  mistress  in  caring 
for  the  comfort  of  guests. 

Daatje  wore  a  snow-white  cap  and  a  purple  cotton  gown. 
Her  face  was  wrinkled,  and  her  hands  and  arms  were  still 
more  so.  She  had  been  an  astonishingly  long  time  in  Aunt 
Serena's  service  —  perhaps  forty  years  —  and  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity clearly  to  prove  to  Johannes  what  an  excellent  being 
his  aunt  was:  always  polite  and  kind,  always  ready  to 
assist,  a  blessing  to  the  poor,  a  refuge  for  every  one  in  the 
neighborhood,  adored  by  all  who  knew  her,  and  pure  as  an 
angel. 

"She  is  converted,"  said  Daatje,  "yes,  truly  converted. 
Ask  whoever  you  please;  like  her  there  are  not  many  living." 

Johannes  perceived  that  "converted"  meant  "very  good." 
According  to  Daatje,  the  natural  man  was  not  good,  and  it  was 
necessary  for  every  one  to  be  converted  before  he  was  fit  for 
anything.  For  a  long  time  before  falling  asleep,  while  looking 
around  the  big,  quiet  bedroom,  Johannes  lay  thinking  over 
these  things.  A  night-light  was  spluttering  in  a  glass  filled 
with  equal  parts  of  water  and  oil.  As  soon  as  the  flame  was 
lighted,  behind  the  milk-white,  translucent  shade  appeared 
strange,  dreamy  landscapes  —  formed  by  the  unequal  thick- 
nesses. 

The  chamber  had  an  ancient,  musty  odor,  and  all  the  fur- 
niture bore  an  old-fashioned  stateliness.     There  was  a  queer 

1/4 


THEQUEST  175 

pattern  upon  the  green  bed-curtains,  distressing  to  see;  like 
half-opened  eyes,  alternately  squinting.  The  big  bed-tassel 
hung  down  from  above  in  dogged  dignity,  like  the  tail  of  a 
lion  keeping  watch  up  above,  on  the  canopy  of  the  four- 
poster. 

Johannes  felt  very  comfortable,  yet  there  was  something 
uncanny  around  him  that  he  did  not  quite  relish.  Once,  it 
really  seemed  to  be  the  ponderous  linen-chest  of  dark  wood, 
with  its  big,  brass-handled  drawers,  upon  which  stood,  under  a 
bell-glass,  a  basket  filled  with  wax  fruit.  What  the  pictures 
represented  could  not  be  seen  in  the  dim  light,  but  they  were 
in  the  secret  too,  as  was  also  the  night-stand  with  its  crocheted 
cover,  and  the  fearfully  big  four-poster. 

Every  half-hour  "Cuckoo!  Cuckoo!"  rang  through  the 
house,  as  if  those  out  in  the  hall  and  in  the  vestibule  were 
also  in  the  secret;  the  only  one  left  out  being  the  little  fel- 
low in  clean  underclothes  and  a  night-gown  much  too  big 
for  him,  who  lay  there,  wide  awake,  looking  around  him.  In 
the  midst  of  all  these  solid,  important,  and  dignified  things, 
he  was  a  very  odd  and  out-of-place  phenomenon.  He  felt 
that,  in  a  polite  way,  he  was  being  made  sport  of.  Besides,  it 
remained  to  be  seen  whether,  after  his  more  or  less  unmannerly 
adventures,  he  could  ever  be  taken  into  confidence.  Evi- 
dently the  entire  house  was,  if  not  precisely  hostile,  yet  in  a 
very  unfriendly  attitude.  He  kept  his  eye  upon  the  bed-tassel, 
all  ready  to  see  the  lion  wag  his  tail.  In  order  to  do  that, 
however,  he  must  surely  first  become  "converted,"  just  like 
Aunt  Serena. 

When  the  day  dawned,  this  new  life  became  more  pleasant 
than  he  had  anticipated.  Aunt  Serena  presided  at  the  break- 
fast, which  consisted  of  tea,  fresh  rolls,  currant  buns,  sweet, 
dark  rye-bread,  and  pulverized  aniseed.  Upon  the  pier-tables, 
bright  with  sunshine,  stood  jars  of  Japanese  blue-ware,  filled 
with  great,  round  bouquets  of  roses,  mignonette,  and  varie- 
gated, ornamental  grasses.  The  long  glass  doors  stood  open, 
and  the  odor  of  new-mown  grass  streamed  in  from  the  garden 


176  THEQUEST 

to  the  room,  which  was  already  deliciously  fragrant  with  the 
roses  and  mignonette,  and  the  fine  tea. 

Aunt  Serena  made  no  allusion  to  the  foregoing  day,  nor  to 
the  death  of  Johannes'  father.  She  was  full  of  kindly  atten- 
tions, and  interrogated  him  affably,  yet  in  a  very  resolute 
manner,  concerning  what  he  had  learned  at  school,  and  asked 
who  had  given  him  religious  instruction.  It  was  now  vaca- 
tion time,  and  he  might  rest  a  little  longer,  and  enjoy  himself; 
but  then  would  come  the  school  again  and  the  catechism. 

Until  now  Johannes  had  had  small  satisfaction  out  of  his 
solemn  resolution  to  value  men  more  highly  in  order  to  live 
with  them  in  a  well-disposed  way.  But  this  time  he  was  more 
at  ease.  The  nice,  cool  house,  the  sunshine,  the  sweet  smells, 
the  flowers,  the  fresh  rolls,  everything  put  him  in  good  humor; 
and  when  Aunt  Serena  herself  was  so  in  harmony  with  her 
surroundings,  he  was  soon  prepared  to  see  her  in  the  light  of 
Daatje's  glorification.  He  gazed  confidingly  into  the  gleam- 
ing glasses  of  her  spectacles,  and  he  also  helped  her  carry  the 
big,  standing  work-basket,  out  of  which  she  drew  the  bright- 
colored  worsteds  for  her  embroidery  —  a  very  extensive  and 
everlasting  piece  of  work. 

But  the  garden!  It  was  a  wonder  —  the  joy  of  his  new  life. 
After  being  released  by  his  aunt  until  the  hour  for  coffee,  he 
raced  into  it  like  a  young,  unleashed  hound  —  hunting  out  all 
the  little  lanes,  paths,  flower-plots,  arbors,  knolls,  and  the 
small  pool;  and  then  he  felt  almost  as  if  in  Windekind's  realm 
again.  A  shady  avenue  was  there  which  made  two  turns, 
thus  seeming  to  be  very  long.  There  were  paths  between 
thick  lilac-bushes  already  in  bloom;  and  there  were  mock- 
oranges,  still  entirely  covered  with  exceedingly  fragrant  white 
flowers.  There  was  a  small,  artificial  hill  in  that  garden,  with 
a  view  toward  the  west,  over  the  adjacent  nursery.  Aunt 
Serena  was  fond  of  viewing  a  fine  sunset,  and  often  came  to 
the  seat  on  the  hilltop.  There  was  a  plot  of  roses,  very  fragrant, 
and  as  big  as   a   plate.     There  were  vivid,  fiery  red   poppies 


THEQUEST  177 

with  woolly  st»ems,  deep  blue  larkspurs,  purple  columbines, 
tall  hollyhocks,  like  wrinkled  paper,  with  their  strange,  strong 
odor.  There  were  long  rows  of  saxifrage,  a  pair  of  dark 
brown  beeches;  and  everywhere,  as  exquisite  surprises,  fruit 
trees  —  apples,  pears,  plums,  medlars,  dogberries,  and  hazel- 
nuts —  scattered  among  the  trees  which  bore  no  fruit. 

Indeed,  the  world  did  not  now  seem  so  bad,  after  all.  A 
human  being  —  a  creature  admirably  and  gloriously  perfect 
—  a  human  dwelling  filled  with  attractive  objects,  and,  close 
beside,  a  charming  imitation  of  Windekind's  realm,  in  which 
to  repose.  And  all  in  the  line  of  duty,  with  no  departure  from 
the  prescribed  path.  Assuredly,  Johannes  had  looked  only 
on  the  dark  side  of  life.     To  confess  this  was  truly  mortifying. 

Towards  twelve  o'clock  Daatje  was  heard  in  the  cool 
kitchen,  noisily  grinding  coffee,  and  Johannes  ventured  just  a 
step  into  her  domain,  where,  on  all  sides,  the  copper  utensils 
were  shining.  In  a  little  courtyard,  some  bird-cages  were 
hanging  against  the  ivy-covered  walls.  One  large  cage  con- 
tained a  skylark.  He  sat,  with  upraised  beak  and  fixed  gaze, 
on  a  little  heap  of  grass.  Above  him,  at  the  top  of  the  cage, 
was  stretched  a  white  cloth. 

"That's  for  his  head,"  said  Daatje,  "if  he  should  happen 
to  forget  he  was  in  a  cage,  and  try  to  fly  into  the  air." 

Next  to  this,  in  tiny  cages,  were  finches.  They  hopped 
back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  from  one  perch  to  another. 
That  was  all  the  room  they  had;  and  there  they  cried,  "Pink! 
Pink!"  Now  and  then  one  of  them  would  sing  a  full  strain. 
Thus  it  went  the  whole  day  long. 

"They  are  blind,"  said  Daatje.     "They  sing  finer  so." 

"Why?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Well,  boy,  they  can't  see,  then,  whether  it  is  morning  or 
evening,  and  so  they  keep  on  singing." 

"Are  you  converted,  too,  Daatje?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Yes,  Master  Johannes,  that  grace  is  mine.  I  know  where 
I'm  going  to.      Not  many  can  say  that  after  me." 

"  Who  besides  you  ?  " 


1^8  THEQUEST 

"Well,  I,  and  our  mistress,  and  Dominie  Kraalboom." 
"Does  a  converted  person  keep  on  doing  wrong?" 
"Wrong?  Now  I've  got  you!  No,  indeed!  I  can  do  no 
more  wrong.  It's  more  wrong  even  if  you  stand  on  your 
head  to  save  your  feet.  But  don't  run  through  the  kitchen 
now  with  those  muddy  shoes.  The  foot-scraper  is  in  the  yard. 
This  is  not  a  runway,  if  you  please." 

The  luncheon  was  not  less  delicious:  fresh,  white  bread, 
smoked  beef,  cake  and  cheese,  and  very  fragrant  coffee,  whose 
aroma  filled  the  entire  house.  Aunt  Serena  talked  about 
church-going,  about  the  choosing  of  a  profession,  and  about 
pure  and  honest  living.  Johannes,  being  in  a  kindly  mood, 
and  inclined  to  acquiescence,  avoided  argument. 

In  the  afternoon,  as  he  sat  dreaming  in  the  shady  avenue  of 
lindens.  Aunt  Serena  came  bringing  a  tray,  bearing  a  cooky 
and  a  glass  of  cherry-brandy. 

At  half-past  five  came  dinner.  Daatje  was  an  excellent 
cook,  and  dishes  which  were  continually  recurring  on  stated 
days  were  particularly  well  prepared.  Vermicelli  soup,  with 
forced-meat  balls,  minced  veal  and  cabbage,  middlings  pud- 
ding with  currant  juice:  that  was  the  first  meal,  later  often 
recalled.  Aunt  Serena  asked  a  blessing  and  returned  thanks, 
and  Johannes,  with  lowered  eyes  and  head  a  little  forward, 
appeared,  from  the  movement  of  his  lips,  to  be  doing  a  little 
of  the  same  thing. 

Through  the  long  twilight.  Aunt  Serena  and  Johannes  sat 
opposite  each  other,  each  one  in  front  of  a  reflector.  Aunt 
Serena  was  thrifty,  and,  since  the  street  lantern  threw  its  light 
into  the  room,  she  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  burn  her  own  oil. 
Only  the  unpretending  little  light  for  rhe  making  of  the  tea 
was  glimmering  behind  the  panes  of  milk-white  glass  —  with 
landscapes  not  unlike  those  upon  the  night-light. 

In  complete  composure,  with  folded  hands,  sat  Aunt  Serena 
in  the  dusk,  making  occasional  remarks,  until  Daatje  came 
to  inquire  "if  the  mistress  did  not  wish  to  make  ready  for  the 


THEQUEST  179 

evening."  Then  Daatje  wound  up  the  patent  lamp,  causing 
it  to  give  out  a  sound  as  if  it  w^ere  being  strangled.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  later  it  was  regulated,  and,  as  soon  as  the 
cozy,  round  ring  of  light  shone  over  the  red  table-cover,  Aunt 
Serena  said,  in  the  most  contented  way:  "Now  we  have  the 
dear  little  lamp  again!" 

At  half-past  ten  there  was  a  sandwich  and  a  glass  of  milk 
for  Johannes.  Daatje  stood  ready  with  the  candle,  and, 
upstairs,  the  night-light,  the  chest  of  drawers  with  the  wax 
fruit,  the  green  bed-curtains,  and  the  impressive  bed-tassel 
were  waiting  for  him.  Johannes  also  descried  something 
new  —  a  big  Bible  —  upon  his  night-table.  There  was  no 
appearance  yet  of  any  attempt  at  a  reconciliation  on  the  part 
of  the  furniture.  The  cuckoo  continued  to  address  himself 
exclusively  to  the  stilly  darkness,  in  absolute  disregard  of 
Johannes;  but  the  latter  did  not  trouble  himself  so  very 
much  about  it,  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  morning  differed  but  little  from  the  foregoing  one. 
Some  Bibles  were  lying  ready  upon  the  breakfast-table.  Daatje 
came  in,  took  her  place  majestically,  folded  her  half-bare 
wrinkled  arms  —  and  Aunt  Serena  read  aloud.  The  day  be- 
fore, Aunt  Serena  had  made  a  departure  from  this,  her  custom, 
uncertain  how  Johannes  would  take  it ;  but,  having  found  the 
boy  agreeable  and  polite,  she  intended  now  to  resume  the  read- 
ings. She  read  a  chapter  of  Isaiah,  full  of  harsh  denunciations 
which  seemed  to  please  Daatje  immensely.  The  latter  wore  a 
serious  look,  her  lips  pressed  close  together,  occasionally  nod- 
ding her  head  in  approval,  while  she  sniffed  resolutely.  Jo- 
hannes found  it  very  disconcerting,  and  could  not,  with  his 
best  endeavors,  keep  his  attention  fixed.  He  was  listening  to 
the  twittering  of  the  starlings  on  the  roof,  and  the  cooing  of  a 
wood-dove  in  the  beech  tree. 

In  front  of  him  he  saw  a  steel  engraving,  representing  a 
young  woman,  clad  in  a  long  garment,  clinging  with  out- 
stretched arms  to  a  big  stone  cross  that  stuck  up  out  of  a 
restless  waste  of  waters.     Rays  of  light  were  streaming  down 


i8o  THEQUEST 

from  above,  and  the  young  person  was  looking  trustfully  up 
into  them.  The  inscription  below  the  engraving  read,  "The 
Rock  of  Ages,"  and  Johannes  was  deep  in  speculation  as  to 
how  the  young  lady  had  gotten  there,  and  especially  how  she 
was  to  get  away  from  there.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that 
she  could  long  maintain  herself  in  that  uncomfortable  position 

—  surely  not  for  ages.  That  refuge  looked  like  a  peculiarly 
precarious  one;  unless,  indeed,  something  better  might  be 
done  with  those  rays  of  light. 

Upon  the  same  wall  hung  a  motto,  drawn  in  colored  letters, 
amid  a  superfluity  of  flowers  and  butterflies,  saying:  "The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd.     I  shall  not  want." 

This  awakened  irreverent  thoughts  in  Johannes'  mind. 
When  the  Bible-reading  was  over,  he  was  suddenly  moved 
to  make  a  remark. 

"Aunt  Serena,"  said  he,  conscious  of  a  rising  color,  and 
feeling  rather  giddy  on  account  of  his  boldness,  "is  it  only 
because  the  Lord  is  your  Shepherd  that  you  do  not  lack  for 
anything  ?" 

But  he  had  made  a  bad  break. 

Aunt  Serena's  face  took  on  a  severe  expression,  and  adjust- 
ing her  spectacles  somewhat  nervously,  she  said:  "I  willingly 
admit,  dear  Johannes,  that  in  many  respects  I  have  been 
blessed  beyond  my  deserts;  but  ought  not  you  to  know  —  you 
who  had  such  a  good  and  well-informed  father  —  that  it  is 
very  unbecoming  in  young  people  to  pass  judgment,  thought- 
lessly, upon  the  lives  of  older  ones,  when  they  know  nothing 
either  of  their  trials  or  of  their  blessings  V 

Johannes  sat  there,  deeply  abashed,  suddenly  finding  him- 
self to  be  a  silly,  saucy  boy. 

But  Daatje  stood  up,  and  in  a  manner  peculiarly  her  own 

—  bending  a  little,  arms  akimbo  —  said,  with  great  em- 
phasis: "/'//  tell  you  what,  mistress!  you're  too  good.  He 
ought  to  have  a  spanking  —  on  the  bare  spanking  place,  too!" 
And  forthwith  she  went  to  the  kitchen. 


VI 

There  were  regularly  recurring  changes  in  Aunt  Serena's 
life.  In  the  first  place,  the  going  to  church.  That  was  the 
great  event  of  the  week;  and  the  weekly  list  of  services  and  of 
the  officiating  clergymen  was  devoutly  discussed.  Then  the 
lace  cap,  with  its  silk  strings,  was  exchanged  for  a  bonnet 
with  a  gauze  veil;  and  Daatje  was  careful  to  have  the  church 
books,  mantle,  and  gloves  ready,  in  good  reason.  Nearly 
always  Daatje  went  also;  if  not,  then  the  sermon  was  repeated 
to  her  in  detail. 

Johannes  accompanied  his  aunt  with  docility,  and  tried, 
not  without  a  measure  of  success,  to  appreciate  the  discourse. 

The  visits  of  Minister  Kraalboom  were  not  less  important. 
Johannes  saw,  with  amazement,  that  his  aunt,  at  other  times 
so  stately  and  estimable,  now  almost  humbled  herself  in  rev- 
erent and  submissive  admiration.  She  treated  this  man,  in 
whom  Johannes  could  see  no  more  than  a  common,  kindly 
gentleman,  with  a  head  of  curling  grey  hair,  and  with  round, 
smoothly  shaven  cheeks,  as  if  he  belonged  to  a  higher  order 
of  beings;  and  the  adored  one  accepted  her  homage  with 
candid  readiness.  The  most  delicious  things  the  aunt  had, 
in  fine  wines,  cakes,  and  liqueurs,  were  set  before  him;  and, 
as  the  minister  was  a  great  smoker,  Daatje  had  a  severe 
struggle  with  herself  after  every  visit,  between  her  respect  for 
the  servant  of  the  Lord  and  her  detestation  of  scattered  ashes, 
stumps  of  cigars,  and  tobacco-smelling  curtains. 

Once  a  week  there  was  a  "Krans,"  or  sewing  circle,  and 
then  came  Aunt  Serena's  lady  friends.  They  were  more  or 
less  advanced  in  years,  but  all  of  them  very  unprepossessing 
women,  among  whom  Aunt  Serena,  with  her  erect  figure  and 
fine,  pale  face,  made  a  very  good  appearance;  and  she  was 
clearly  regarded  as  a  leader.  Puff-cakes  were  offered,  and 
warm   wine   or   "milk-tea"   was    poured.     The   aim   of  the 

i8i 


i82  THEQUEST 

gatherings  was  charitable.  Talking  busily,  the  friends  made 
a  great  many  utterly  useless,  and,  for  the  most  part,  taste- 
less, articles:  patchwork  quilts,  anti-macassars,  pin-cushions,, 
flower-pot  covers,  picture  frames  of  dried  grasses,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  Then  a  lottery,  or  "tombola,"*  as  it  was  called, 
was  planned  for.  Every  one  had  to  dispose  of  tickets,  and  the 
proceeds  were  given,  sometimes  to  a  poor  widow,  sometimes 
to  a  hospital,  but  more  often,  however,  to  the  cause  of 
missions. 

On  such  evenings  Johannes  sat,  silent,  in  his  corner,  with 
one  of  the  illustrated  periodicals  of  which  his  aunt  had  a  large 
chestful.  He  listened  to  the  conversation,  endeavoring  to 
think  it  noble  and  amiable;  and  he  looked,  also,  at  the  trifling 
fingers.  No  one  interfered  with  him,  and  he  drank  his  warm 
wine  and  ate  his  cake,  content  to  be  left  in  peace;  for  he  felt 
attracted  toward  none  of  the  flowers  composing  this  human 
wreath. 

But  Aunt  Serena  did  not  consider  her  duty  accomplished 
in  these  ways  alone.  She  went  out  from  them  to  busy  herself 
in  parish  calls  on  various  households  —  rich  as  well  as  poor 
—  wherever  she  thought  she  could  do  any  good.  It  was  a 
great  satisfaction  to  Johannes  when,  at  his  request  that  he  be 
allowed  to  go  with  her,  she  replied:  "Certainly,  dear  boy;  why 
not.?" 

Johannes  accompanied  her  this  first  time  under  great  ex- 
citement. Now  he  was  going  to  be  initiated  into  ways  of 
doing  and  being  good.     This  was  a  fine  chance. 

So  they  set  out  together,  Johannes  carrying  a  large  satchel 
containing  bags  of  rice,  barley,  sugar,  and  split  peas.  For 
the  sick  there  were  jars  of  smoked  beef  and  a  flask  of  wine. 

They  first  went  to  see  Vrouw  Stok,  who  lived  not  far  away, 
in  French  Lane.  Vrouw  Stok  evidently  counted  upon  such  a 
visit,  and  she  was  extremely  voluble.  According  to  her  state- 
ments, one  would  say  that  no  nobler  being  dwelt  upon  earth 
than  Aunt  Serena,  and  no  nicer,  more  grateful,  and  contented 

*  Lottery-Fair. 


THEQUEST  183 

creature  than  Vrouw  Stok.  And  Dominie  Kraalboom  also 
was  lavishly  praised. 

After  that,  they  went  to  visit  the  sick,  in  reeking  little  rooms 
in  dreary  back  streets.  And  everywhere  they  met  with  re- 
iterations of  gratitude  and  pleasure  from  the  recipients,  to- 
gether with  unanimous  praising  of  Aunt  Serena,  until  Johannes 
several  times  felt  the  tears  gather  in  his  eyes.  The  barley 
and  the  split  peas  were  left  where  they  would  be  of  use,  as 
were  also  the  wine  and  the  jars  of  smoked  beef. 

Johannes  and  his  aunt  returned  home  very  well  pleased. 
Aunt  Serena  was  rejoiced  over  her  willing  and  appreciative 
votary,  and  Johannes  over  this  well-conducted  experiment 
in  philanthropy.  If  this  were  to  be  the  way,  all  would  be  well. 
In  a  high  state  of  enthusiasm  he  sped  to  the  garden  to  dream 
away  the  quiet  afternoon  amid  the  richly  laden  raspberry- 
bushes. 

"Aunt  Serena,"  said  Johannes,  at  table  that  noon,  "that 
poor  boy  in  the  back  street,  with  the  inflamed  eyes  and  that 
ulcerated  leg  —  is  he  a  religious  boy?" 

"Yes,  Johannes,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"Then  is  the  Lord  his  Shepherd,  too?" 

"Yes,  Johannes,"  said  his  aunt,  more  seriously  now,  having 
in  mind  his  former  remark.  But  Johannes  spoke  quite  inno- 
cently, as  if  deep  in  his  own  thoughts. 

"Why  is  it,  then,  that  he  lacks  so  much?  He  has  never 
seen  the  dunes  nor  the  ocean.  He  goes  from  his  bed  to  his 
chair,  and  from  his  chair  to  his  bed,  and  knows  only  that 
dirty  room." 

"The  Lord  knows  what  is  good  for  us,  Johannes.  If  he  is 
pious,  and  remains  so,  sometime  he  will  lack  for  nothing." 

"You  mean  when  he  is  dead  ?  .  .  .  But,  Aunt  Serena,  if  I 
am  pious  I  shall  go  to  heaven,  too,  shall  I  not?" 

"Certainly,  Johannes," 

"But,  Aunt  Serena,  I  have  had  a  fine  time  in  your 
home,  with  raspberries  and  roses,  and  delicious  things  to 
eat,  and  he  has  had  nothing  but  pain  and  plain  living.     Yet 


i84  THEQUEST 

the  end  is  the  same.  That  does  not  seem  fair,  does  it,  Aunt 
Serena  ?" 

"The  Lord  knows  what  is  good  for  us,  Johannes.  The 
most  severely  tried  are  to  Him  the  best  beloved." 

"Then,  if  it  is  not  a  blessing  to  have  good  things,  we  ought 
lo  long  for  trials  and  privations  ?" 

"We  should  be  resigned  to  what  is  given  us,"  said  Aunt 
Serena,  not  quite  at  her  ease. 

"And  yet  be  thankful  only  for  all  those  delicious  things? 
Althouo;h  we  know  that  trials  are  better?" 

Johannes  spoke  seriously,  without  a  thought  of  irony,  and 
Aunt  Serena,  glad  to  be  able  to  close  the  conversation, 
replied: 

"Yes,  Johannes,  always  be  thankful.  Ask  the  dominie 
about  it." 

Dominie  Kraalboom  came  in  the  evening,  and,  as  Aunt 
Serena  repeated  to  him  Johannes'  questions,  his  face  took  on 
the  very  same  scowl  it  always  wore  when  he  stood  up  in  the 
pulpit;  his  wry  mouth  rolled  the  rs,  and,  with  the  emphasis 
of  delightful  certainty,  he  uttered  the  following: 

"My  dear  boy,  that  which  you,  in  your  childlike  simplicity, 
have  asked,  is  —  ah,  indeed  —  ah,  the  great  problem  over 
which  the  pious  in  all  ages  have  pondered  and  meditated  — 
pondered  and  meditated.  It  behooves  us  to  enjoy  gratefully, 
and  without  questioning,  what  the  good  Lord,  in  His  eternal 
mercy,  is  pleased  to  pour  out  upon  us.  We  should,  as  much 
as  lies  in  our  power,  relieve  the  afflictions  that  He  allots  to 
others,  and  at  the  same  time  teach  the  sufferers  to  be  resigned 
to  the  inevitable.  For  He  knows  what  we  all  have  need  of, 
and  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb." 

Then  said  Johannes:  "So  you,  and  Aunt  Serena,  and  I, 
have  a  good  time  now,  because  we  have  no  need  of  all 
that  misery  ?  And  that  sick  boy  does  need  it  ?  Is  that  it, 
Dominie  ?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  boy,  that  is  it." 

"And  has  Daatje,  too,  need  of  privations?     Daatje  said 


THEQUEST  185 

that  she  was  converted  as  completely  as  you  and  Aunt  Serena 
were. 

"Daatje  is  a  good,  pious  soul,  entirely  satisfied  with  what 
the  Lord  has  apportioned  her." 

"Yes,  Dominie;  but,"  said  Johannes,  his  voice  trembling 
with  his  feeling,  "I  am  not  converted  yet,  not  the  least  bit, 
I  am  not  at  all  good.  Why,  then,  have  I  so  much  more  given 
me  than  Daatje  has  ?  Daatje  has  only  a  small  pen,  up  in  the 
garret,  while  I  have  the  big  guest-room;  she  must  do  the  scrub- 
bing and  eat  in  the  kitchen,  while  I  eat  in  the  house  and  get 
many  more  dainties.  And  it  is  not  the  Lord  who  does  that, 
but  Aunt  Serena." 

Dominie  Kraalboom  threw  a  sharp  glance  at  Johannes,  and 
drank  in  silence,  from  his  goblet  of  green  glass,  the  fragrant 
Rhine  wine.  Aunt  Serena  looked,  with  a  kind  of  suspense,  at 
the  dominie's  mouth,  expecting  the  forthcoming  oracle  to 
dissipate   all   uncertainty. 

When  the  dominie  spoke  again,  his  voice  was  far  less  kindly. 
He  said:  "I  believe,  my  young  friend,  that  it  was  high  time 
your  aunt  took  you  home  here.  Apparently,  you  have  been 
exposed  to  very  bad  influences.  Accustom  yourself  to  the 
thought  that  older  and  wiser  people  know,  better  than  your- 
self, what  is  good  for  you;  and  be  thankful  for  the  good  things, 
without  picking  them  to  pieces.  God  has  placed  each  one  in 
his  station,  where  he  must  be  active  for  his  own  and  his  fellow- 
creatures'  salvation." 

With  a  sigh  of  contentment,  Aunt  Serena  took  up  her 
embroidery  again.  Johannes  was  frightened  at  the  word 
"picking,"  which  brought  to  mind  an  old  enemy  —  Pluizer. 
Dominie  Kraalboom  hastened  to  light  a  fresh  cigar,  and  to 
begin  about  the  "tombola." 

That  night,  in  the  great  bed,  Johannes  lay  awake  a  long 
while,  uneasy  and  restless.  His  mind  was  clear  and  on  the 
alert,  and  he  was  in  a  state  of  expectancy.  Things  were  not 
going  right,  though.     Something  was  the  matter,  but  he  knew 


i86  THEOUEST 

not  what.  The  furniture,  in  the  still  night-time,  wore  a  hos- 
tile, almost  threatening  air.  The  call  of  the  cuckoo  spelled 
mischief. 

About  three  or  four  o'clock,  when  the  night-light  had  sput- 
tered and  gone  out,  he  lay  still  wider  awake.  He  was  looking 
at  the  bed-cord,  which,  bigger  and  thicker  than  ordinary,  was 
growing  ominously  visible  in  the  first  dim  light. 

Suddenly  —  as  true  as  you  live  —  he  saw  it  move!  A 
slight  quiver  —  a  spasmodic,  serpentine  undulation,  like  the 
tail  of  a  nervous  cat. 

Then,  very  swiftly  and  without  a  rustle,  he  saw  a  small 
shadow  drop  down  the  bed-cord.     Was  it  a  mouse  ? 

After  that  he  heard  a  thin  little  voice: 

"Johannes!   Johannes!" 

He  knew  that  voice.  He  lifted  up  his  head  and  took  a 
good  look. 

Seated  upon  the  bed-tassel,  astride  the  handle,  was  his  old 
friend  Wistik. 

He  was  the  same  old  Wistik,  looking  as  important  as  ever; 
yes,  his  puckered  little  face  wore  a  peculiar,  almost  frightened 
expression  of  suspense.  He  was  not  wearing  his  little  acorn- 
cup,  but  a  smart  cap  that  appeared  black  in  the  twilight. 

"I  have  news  for  you,"  cried  Wistik.  "A  great  piece  of 
news.     Come  with  me,  quick!" 

"How  do  you  do,  Wistik?"  whispered  Johannes.  He  lay 
cozily  between  the  sheets,  and  was  glad  to  see  his  friend  again. 
Let  the  chest  of  drawers  and  the  cuckoo  be  as  disagreeable  as 
they  wanted  to,  now;  here  was  his  friend  again.  "Must  I  go 
with  you  ?     How  can  I  ?     Where  to  ?" 

"This  way  —  up  here  with  me,"  whispered  Wistik.  "I 
have  found  something.  It  will  make  you  open  your  eyes. 
Just  give  me  your  hand.  That's  the  best  way.  You  can 
leave  your  body  lying  here  while  you  are  away." 

^'  That  will  be  a  fine  sight,"  said  Johannes. 

But  it  happened  without  any  trouble.  He  put  out  his  hand, 
and  in  a  twinkling  he  was  sitting  beside  Wistik,  on  the  bed- 


THEQUEST  187 

tassel.  And  truly,  as  he  looked  down  below,  there  he  saw 
his  body  lying  peacefully  fast  asleep.  A  ray  of  light  streamed 
into  the  room,  through  the  clover-leaf  opening  in  the  blinds, 
and  lighted  up  the  sleeping  head.  Johannes  thought  it  an 
extremely  pretty  sight,  and  himself  still  a  really  nice  boy  as  he 
lay  there  among  the  pillows,  with  his  dark  curly  hair  about 
the  slightly  contracted  brows. 

"Do  you  believe  that  I  am  very  bad,  Wistik?"  said  he, 
looking  down  upon  himself. 

"No,"  said  Wistik,  "we  must  never  fib  to  each  other. 
Neither  am  I  bad;  not  a  bit.  I  have  found  that  out  now, 
positively.  Oh,  I  have  discovered  so  much  since  we  last  met! 
But  we  must  not  admire  ourselves  on  that  account.  That 
would  be  stupid.      Come,  now,  for  we  have  not  much  time." 

Together  they  climbed  up  the  bed-cord.  It  was  easy  work, 
for  Johannes  was  light  and  small,  and  he  climbed  nimbly  up 
the  shaggy  rope.  But  it  felt  warm,  and  hairy,  and  alive  in 
his  hands! 

Up  they  worked  themselves,  through  the  folds  of  the  canopy. 
But  the  bed-cord  did  not  end  there.  Oh,  no!  It  went  on 
farther  and  grew  bigger  and  bigger,  and  then.  .  .  .  What 
they  came  to,  I  will  tell  you  in  the  following  chapter. 


VII 

It  was,  indeed,  a  real  lion's  tail,  and  not  a  bed-cord. 

Johannes  and  Wistik  were  now  sitting  on  the  very  back  of 
the  mighty  beast.  Above  them  it  was  all  dark,  but  out  in 
front  —  away  where  the  lion  was  looking  —  the  daylight  could 
be  seen. 

They  let  themselves  down  cautiously  to  the  ground.  They 
were  in  a  large  cave.  Johannes  saw  streaks  of  water  glisten- 
ing along  the  rocky  walls. 

Gently  as  they  tried  to  slip  past  the  monster,  he  yet  dis- 
covered them,  and  turned  his  shaggy  head  around,  watching 
them  distrustfully. 

"He  will  not  do  anything,"  said  Wistik.  And  the  lion 
looked  at  them  as  if  they  were  a  pair  of  flies,  not  worth  eat- 
ing up. 

They  passed  on  into  the  sharp  sunlight  outside,  and,  after 
several  blinding  moments,  Johannes  saw  before  him  a  wide- 
spread, glorious  mountain  view. 

They  were  standing  on  the  slope  of  a  high,  rocky  mountain. 
Down  below,  they  saw  deep,  verdant  valleys,  whence  the  sound 
of  babbling  brooks  and  waterfalls  ascended. 

In  the  distance  was  the  dazzling,  blinding  glitter  of  sun- 
shine upon  a  sea  of  deepest,  darkest  blue.  They  could  see 
the  strand,  and  every  now  and  then  it  grew  white  with  the 
combing  surf.     But  there  was  no  sound;  it  was  too  far  away. 

Overhead,  the  sky  was  clear,  but  Johannes  could  not  see 
the  face  of  the  sun.  It  was  very  still  all  around,  and  the  blue 
and  white  flowers  among  the  rocks  were  motionless.  Only 
the  rushing  of  the  water  in  the  valleys  could  be  heard. 

"Now,  Johannes,  what  do  you  say  to  this?  It  is  more 
beautiful  than  the  dunes,  is  it  not  ?"  said  Wistik,  nodding  his 
head  in  complete  satisfaction. 

Johannes  was  enchanted  at  the  sight  of  that  vast  expanse 


THEQUEST  189 

before  him,  with  the  rocks,  the  flowers,  the  ravines,  and 
the  sea. 

"Oh,  Wistik,  where  are  we?"  asked  he,  softly,  enraptured 
with  the  view, 

"My  new  cap  came  from  here,"  said  Wistik. 

Johannes  looked  at  him.  The  pretty  cap  that  had  appeared 
black  in  the  twilight  proved  to  be  bright  red.  It  was  a  Phry- 
gian cap. 

"Phrygia  ?"  asked  Johannes,  for  he  knew  the  name  of  those 
caps  well. 

"Maybe,"  said  Wistik.  "Is  not  this  a  great  find?  And 
I  know,  too  ,  .  ."  Here  he  spoke  in  whispers  again,  very 
importantly,  behind  the  back  of  his  hand,  in  Johannes'  ear: 
"Here  they  know  something  more  about  the  little  gold  key, 
and  the  book,  which  we  are  both  trying  to  find." 

"Is  the  book  here?"  asked  Johannes. 

"I  do  not  know  yet,"  said  Wistik,  a  trifle  disturbed.  "I  did 
not  say  that,  but  the  people  know  about  it — that  is  certain." 

"Are  there  people  here?" 

"Certainly  there  are.  Human  beings,  and  elves,  and  all 
kinds  of  animals.     And  they  know  all  about  it." 

"Is  Windekind  here,  too,  Wistik?" 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,  Johannes,  but  I  have  not  seen  him  yet. 
Shall  we  try  to  find  him  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Wistik!  But  how  are  we  going  to  get  down 
there?     It  is  too  steep.     We  shall  break  our  necks." 

"No,  indeed,  if  only  you  are  not  afraid.  Just  let  yourself 
float.     Then  you  will  be  all  right." 

At  first  Johannes  did  not  dare.  He  was  wide  awake,  not 
dreaming;  and  if  any  one  wide  awake  were  to  throw  himself 
dow^n  from  a  high  rock,  he  would  meet  his  death.  If  one  were 
dreaming,  then  nothing  would  happen.  If  only  he  could 
know,  now,  whether  he  was  awake  or  dreaming! 

"Come,  Johannes,  we  have  only  a  little  time." 

Then  he  risked  it,  and  let  himself  drift  downward.  And 
it  was  splendid  —  so  comfortable!     He  floated  gently  down 


190  THEQUEST 

through  the  mild,  still  air,  arms  and  legs  moving  as  in  swim- 
ming. 

"Is  it  only  a  dream,  then  ?"  he  asked,  looking  down  atten- 
tively at  the  beautiful,  blooming  world  below  him. 

"What  do  you  mean  .?"  asked  Wistik.  "You  are  Johannes, 
just  the  same,  and  what  you  see,  Johannes  sees.  Your  body 
lies  asleep,  in  Vrede-best,  at  your  aunt's.  But  did  you  ever 
in  the  daytime  see  anything  so  distinct  as  this  ?" 

"No,"  said  Johannes. 

"Well,  then,  you  can  just  as  well  call  your  Aunt  Serena 
and  Vrede-best  a  dream  —  just  as  much  as  this." 

A  large  bird  —  an  eagle  —  swept  around  in  stately  circles, 
spying  at  them  with  its  sharp,  fierce  eyes. 

Below,  in  the  dark  green  of  the  valley,  a  small  white  temple, 
with  its  columns,  was  visible.  Close  beside  it  a  mountain 
stream  tumbled  splashing  down  below.  Still  and  straight  as 
arrows,  tall  cypresses,  with  their  pale  grey  trunks  and  black- 
green  foliage,  encircled  it.  A  fine  mist  rose  up  from  the 
splashing  water,  and,  crowned  with  an  exquisite  arc  of  color, 
remained  suspended  amidst  the  glossy  green  myrtle  and 
magnolia.  Only  where  the  water  spattered  did  the  leaves 
stir;  elsewhere  everything  was  motionless. 

But  over  all  rang  the  warbling  and  chattering  of  birds,  from 
out  the  forest  shade.  Finches  sang  their  fullest  strains,  and 
the  thrushes  fluted  their  changeful  tune,  untiringly. 

But  listen!  That  was  not  a  bird!  That  was  a  more 
knowing,  more  cordial  song;  a  melody  that  said  something  — 
something  which  Johannes  could  feel,  like  the  words  of  a 
friend.  It  was  a  reed,  played  charmingly.  No  bird  could 
sing  like  that. 

"Oh,  Wistik,  who  is  playing?  It  is  more  lovely  than 
blackbird  or  nightingale." 

"Pst!"  said  Wistik,  opening  his  eyes  wide.  "That  is  only 
the  flute,  yet.     By  and  by  you  will  hear  the  singing." 

They  sank  down  upon  a  mountain  meadow,  in  a  wide 
valley.     The   limpid,   bkic-grcen   rivulet   flowed   through   the 


THE    QUEST  191 

sunny  grass-plot,  between  blood-red  anemones,  yellow  and 
white  narcissi,  and  deep  purple  hyacinths.  On  both  sides 
of  it  were  thick,  round  azalea-bushes,  entirely  covered  with 
fragrant,  brick-red  flowers.  White  butterflies  were  fluttering 
back  and  forth  across  it.  On  the  other  side  rose  tall  laurel, 
myrtle,  olive,  and  chestnut  trees;  and  still  higher  the  cedars 
and  pines  —  half-way  up  the  mountain  wall  of  red-grey 
granite. 

It  was  so  still  and  peaceful  and  great  blue  dragon-flies  with 
black  wings  were  rocking  on  the  yellow  narcissus  flowers 
nodding  along  the  stream. 

Then  Johannes  saw  a  fleeing  deer,  springing  up  from  the 
sod  in  swift,  sinewy  leaps;  then  another,  and  another. 

The  flute-playing  sounded  close  by,  but  now  there  was 
singing  also.  It  came  from  a  shady  grove  of  chestnut  trees, 
and  echoed  gloriously  from  mountain-side  to  mountain-side, 
while  the  brook  maintained  the  rhythm  with  its  purling,  mur- 
muring flow.  The  voices  of  men  and  women  could  be  heard, 
vigorously  strong  and  sweetly  clear;  and,  intermingling  with 
these  somewhat  rude  shouts  of  joy,  the  high-pitched  voices 
of  children. 

On  they  came,  the  people,  a  joyous,  bright-colored  pro- 
cession. They  all  bore  flowers  —  as  wreaths  upon  their 
heads,  as  festoons  in  their  hands  or  about  their  shoulders  — 
flute-players,  men,  women,  and  children.  And  they  them- 
selves seemed  living  flowers,  in  their  clear-colored,  charming 
apparel.  They  all  had  abundant,  curling  hair  which  gleamed 
like  dull  gold  in  the  sunshine,  that  tinted  everything.  Their 
limbs  and  faces  were  tanned  by  the  sun,  but  when  the  folds 
of  their  garments  fell  aside,  their  bodies  beneath  them  shone 
white  as  milk.  The  older  ones  kept  step,  with  careful  dignity; 
the  children  bore  little  baskets,  with  fruit,  ribbons,  and  green 
branches;  but  the  young  men  and  maidens  danced  as  they 
went,  keeping  the  rhythm  of  the  music  in  a  way  Johannes  had 
never  seen  before.  They  swayed  their  bodies  in  a  swinging 
movement,  with    little   leaps;   sometimes  even  standing  still, 


192  THEQUEST 

in  graceful  postures,  their  arms  alternately  raised  above  their 
heads,  their  loosened  garments  flowing  free,  and  again  arrang- 
ing themselves  in  charming  folds. 

And  hovs^  beautiful  they  were!  Not  one,  Johannes  noted, 
old  or  young,  who  had  not  those  noble,  refined  features,  and 
those  clear,  ardent  eyes,  in  which  was  to  be  found  the  deep 
meaning  he  was  always  seeking  in  human  faces  —  that  which 
made  a  person  instantly  his  friend  —  that  made  him  long  to 
be  cordial  and  intimate  —  that  which  he  had  first  perceived 
in  Windekind's  eyes,  and  that  he  missed  so  keenly  in  all  those 
human  faces  among  which  he  had  had  to  live.  That,  they 
all  had  —  man  and  woman,  grey-haired  one  and  little  child. 

"Oh,  Wistik,"  he  whispered,  so  moved  he  could  scarcely 
speak,  "are  they  really  human  beings,  and  not  elves?  Can 
human  beings  be  so  beautiful  ?  They  are  more  beautiful 
than  flowers  —  and  much  more  beautiful  than  the  animals. 
They  are  the  most  beautiful  of  all  things  in  this  world!" 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Wistik,  rubbing  his  little  legs 
in  his  satisfaction.  "Yes,  human  beings  rank  first  in  nature, — 
altogether  first.  But  until  now  we  have  had  to  do  with  the 
wrong  ones  —  the  trash,  Johannes  —  the  refuse.  The  right 
ones  are  not  so  bad.     I  have  always  told  you  that." 

Johannes  did  not  remember  about  it,  but  would  not  contra- 
dict his  friend.  He  only  hoped  that  those  dear  and  charming 
people  would  come  to  him,  recognize  him  as  their  comrade, 
and  receive  him  as  one  of  them.  That  would  make  him 
very  happy;  he  would  love  the  people  truly,  and  be  proud 
of  his  human  nature. 

But  the  splendid  train  drew  near,  and  passed  on,  without 
his  having  been  observed  by  any  one;  and  Johannes  also 
heard  them  singing  in  a  strange,  unintelligible  language. 

"May  I  not  speak  to  them  ?"  he  asked,  anxiously.  "Would 
they  understand   me?" 

"Indeed,  no!"  said  Wistik,  indignantly.  "What  are  you 
thinking  about  ?  This  is  not  a  fairy  tale  nor  a  dream.  This 
is  real  —  altogether  real." 


THEQUEST  193 

"Then  shall  I  have  to  go  back  again  to  Aunt  Serena,  and 
Daatje,  and  the  dominie?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure!"  said  Wistik,  in  confusion. 

"And  the  little  key,  and  the  book,  and  Windekind?" 

"We  can  still  be  seeking  them." 

"That  is  always  the  way  with  you!"  said  Johannes,  bitterly. 
"You  promise  something  wonderful,  and  the  end  is  always  a 
disappointment." 

"I  cannot  help  that,"  said  Wistik. 

They  went  farther,  both  of  them  silent  and  somewhat  dis- 
couraged. Then  they  came  to  human  habitations  amid  the 
verdure.  They  were  simple  structures  of  dark  wood  and 
white  stone,  artistically  decorated  and  colored.  Vines  were 
growing  against  the  pillars,  and  from  the  roofs  hung 
the  branches  of  a  strange,  thickly  leaved  plant  having  red 
flowers,  so  that  the  walls  looked  as  if  they  were  bleeding. 
Birds  were  everywhere  making  their  nests,  and  little  golden 
statues  could  be  seen  resting  in  marble  niches.  There  were 
no  doors  nor  barriers  —  only  here  and  there  a  heavy,  many- 
colored  rug  hanging  before  an  entrance.  •  It  seemed  very 
silent  and  lonely  there,  for  everybody  was  away;  yet  nothing 
was  locked  up,  nor  concealed.  An  exquisite  perfume  was 
smoldering  in  bronze  basins  in  front  of  the  houses,  and  col- 
umns of  blue  smoke  coiled  gently  up  into  the  still  air. 

Then  they  ventured  farther  into  the  forest  that  lay  behind 
the  houses.  It  was  dusky  twilight  there,  and  all  was  solemnly 
and  mysteriously  silent.  The  moss  grew  thick  upon  the 
massive  rocks  between  which  the  mighty  chestnut  and  cedar 
trees  took  root.  Foaming  rivulets  were  flowing  down;  and 
frequently  it  seemed  to  Johannes  as  if  he  saw  some  creature 
—  a  deer  or  other  animal  —  peep  at  him,  and  then  dart  away 
between  the  tree-trunks.  "What  are  they?  Deer?"  asked 
Johannes. 

"Indeed,  no!"  said  Wistik,  lifting  a  finger.  "Only  listen! 
They  are  laughing.     Deer  do  not  laugh." 


194  THEQUEST 

Truly,  Johannes  heard  every  now  and  then,  as  he  saw  a 
figure  disappear  in  the  twihght  of  the  woods,  a  soft  peal  of 
laughter  —  clearly,  human  laughter. 

"Now!  now  we  are  going  to  see  him!"  said  Wistik. 

"Who?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Pst!"  said  Wistik,  very  mysteriously,  pointing  toward  an 
open  place  in  the  forest. 

Johannes  saw  there  such  a  pretty  and  captivating  spectacle 
that  he  stood  speechless,  with  only  a  light  laugh  of  joy  and 
amazement. 

The  forest  was  more  open  there,  and  the  sun  shone  in  upon 
a  grassy,  flower-covered  spot.  In  the  centre  stood  a  single, 
extraordinarily  large  chestnut  tree.  About  its  foot,  bordered 
with  white  narcissi,  a  little  stream  of  purest  water  was  wind- 
ing. On  every  side  tall  rhododendrons  stood  out  in  all  their 
beauty  of  dark  foliage,  and  hundreds  of  hemispherical  clusters 
of  purple  flowers. 

At  the  foot  of  the  tree,  in  the  shade  of  its  leaves,  a  strange 
figure,  dark  and  shaggy,  was  sitting  in  a  circle  of  exquisite, 
fair-skinned  beings.  Johannes  did  not  know  what  to  think 
of  them,  they  were  so  light  and  so  delicate.  And  they  lay  in 
all  sorts  of  graceful  attitudes  amid  the  tall  grass  and  the  nar- 
cissus flowers.  They  seemed  to  be  human  beings,  but  they 
were  so  small;  and  they  were  as  white  as  the  foam  of  the  brook. 
Their  long  hair  was  so  feathery  light,  it  seemed  to  float  about 
their  heads  in  the  motionless  air. 

In  the  centre  sat  the  dark,  shaggy  figure,  with  his  arms 
upon  his  knees,  and  his  hands  extended.  He  had  a  long,  grey 
beard,  an  old,  wrinkled,  friendly  face,  large  gold  earrings,  a 
wreath  of  leaves  upon  his  head,  a  red  flower-festoon  adorned 
with  living  yellow  butterflies  about  his  shoulders,  bare,  brown 
arms,  a  deep,  broad,  hairy  chest,  and  legs  entirely  covered 
with  a  growth  of  red-brown  fleece.  On  each  hand  rested  a 
bird  —  a  finch  —  and  each  bird  sang,  in  turn,  his  longest 
strain.  Then  the  old  figure  laughed,  and  nodded  his  approval, 
and  the  fair  little  beings  joined  in  the  laugh.      On  his  shoulder 


THEQUEST  195 

sat  a  squirrel,  shucking  chestnuts  so  that  the  shells  fell  upon 
his  beard. 

"Oh,  Wistik!"  cried  Johannes,  half  laughing,  half  crying, 
with  rapture,  "I  know  who  that  is  —  I  know  him.  That  is 
Pan  — Father  Pan!" 

"Very  likely!"  said  Wistik,  with  a  knowing  look.  "Now 
he  will  listen  to  us.     Let's  try!" 

Diffidently,  Johannes  went  nearer.  At  the  first  step  he 
took  in  the  open  space,  the  little  white  nymphs  sped  apart 
in  a  trice  —  as  swiftly  and  softly  as  if  they  had  been 
turned  into  newts  —  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  heard  save 
their  light,  mocking  laughter,  and  a  slight  rustling  in  the 
dark  shadow  of  the  rhododendrons.  The  two  finches  flew 
away  and  the  yellow  butterflies,  also,  from  their  flower-fes- 
toon; and  the  squirrel  shot  into  the  tree  —  his  little  nails 
clattering  as  he  went.  But  Pan  remained  sitting,  with  head 
bent  forward,  down-dropping  hands,  and  peering,  friendly 
eyes. 

"I  know  you  all  right!"  came  from  the  wide  mouth  of  Pan, 
while  he  nodded  to  Johannes,  and  looked  at  him  with  his 
large  head  a  little  to  one  side. 

"Oh,  Father  Pan!"  exclaimed  Johannes,  quivering  with 
awe  and  suspense,  "do  you  know  me  ]  Will  you  answer  me  ? 
Tell  me  where  we  are,  then!" 

Continuing  to  nod  in  a  quieting,  aff'able  manner.  Pan  re- 
plied: "Phrygia!     Golden  Era  —  to  be  sure!" 

"And  do  you  know  Wistik,  too?  And  Windekind  ?  And 
do  you  know  about  the  little  key,  and  the  book  ?" 

"Wistik?  Certainly!  Would  that  I  knew  all,  though!  — 
You  know  how  to  ask  questions,  Vraagal.  Know-all  and 
Ask-all!     A  pretty  pair  you  are!" 

And  Pan  laughed  heartily,  showing  his  great  white  teeth  in 
an  astonishingly  large  mouth. 

"But  tell  me,  Father  Pan!     Who  is  Windekind?" 

"My  dearest  dear!  My  darling,  clever  little  son!  That 
is   who    he    is.     We  are   two  yolks   of  one   egg,  although   I 


196  THEQUEST 

am  old,  rough,  and  shaggy,  and  he  is  sleek,  and  fine,  and 
beautiful." 

"Shall  I  ever  see  him  again  ?" 

"Why  not  ?  He  comes  here  often;  and  you  also  like  it  here, 
do  you   not  ? " 

"But  Wistik  said  I  could  not  stay." 

"You  cannot  do  so  —  now;  but  why  could  you  not  come 
back  again  sometime  ? " 

"Could  I?  " 

Pan's  face  took  on  a  most  amused,  astonished  look,  and  he 
puffed  out  his  cheeks. 

"You  dear  little  Vraagal!  Give  me  your  hand."  Johannes 
laid  his  small  hand  trustfully  in  the  broad  open  palm.  The 
large  hand  was  dark  and  shaggy  on  the  outside,  but  white,  and 
smooth,  and  firm  on  the  inside.  "Do  you  not  know  that  yet  ? 
Then  let  Father  Pan  make  you  happy  with  a  word.  Do  not 
forget  it,  mind!  Fraagal  can  do  whatever  he  wills  to  Jo  — 
everything  —  if  he  will  only  be  patient!  But  tell  me  now,  — 
how  did  you  know  me  V 

"I  have  seen  statues  and  engravings  of  you." 

"Do  I  look  like  them  V 

"No!"  said  Johannes.  "I  think  you  are  much  nicer.  In 
the  prints  you  look  like  the  Devil." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Pan,  raising  his  heavy  hands  above 
his  head,  and  clapping  them  together.  "That  is  who  I  am, 
Vraagal.  They  have  made  a  devil  of  me,  so  as  to  drive  people 
away.  But  do  you  believe,  now,  that  I  am  bad  ?  Give  me 
your  paddy  again  !      And  now  the  other  one  !  " 

This  time  Johannes  laid  both  his  own  in  Pan's  two  giant 
hands,  and  said:  "I  know  who  you  are.  You  are  good.  You 
are  Nature!" 

"Hold  your  tongue,  little  hypocrite,  with  your  conceited 
platitudes!     Are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself?" 

Johannes  blushed  deeply;  tears  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he 
wished  he  could  sink  out  of  sight.  But  Pan  drew  him  up 
closer  and  stroked  his  cheek. 


THEQUEST  197 

"Now,  do  not  cry!  It  is  not  so  bad.  You  have  come,  too, 
out  of  a  dreary  nest.  I  am  not  evil  —  neither  is  Wistik. 
Only  trust  us." 

"I  have  told  him  that,  too,"  said  Wistik,  earnestly  and 
emphatically. 

"Little  Vraagal,"  continued  Pan,  looking  very  serious, 
"there  is,  indeed,  an  evil  Devil,  but  he  is  far  more  ugly  than 
I  am.  Is  it  not  so,  Wistik  ^  You  know^  him.  Is  he  not 
much  uglier?     Tell  us!" 

Johannes  never  forgot  the  look  on  Wistik's  face  as  Father 
Pan  asked  him  this  in  a  loud  voice,  with  a  keen,  serious  regard. 
The  little  fellow  grew  as  pale  as  death,  his  mouth  dropped 
open,  he  pressed  both  hands  upon  his  stomach,  and  from  his 
trembling  lips  came  the  almost  inaudible  word:  "Horrible!" 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Pan.  "Well,  I  am  not  that.  Some- 
time Wistik  must  point  him  out  to  you.  He  looks  much  more 
like  those  foolish  people  you  have  just  come  from  than  like  me." 

"Aunt  Serena  ?"  asked  Johannes,  astounded.  "Is  she,  then, 
not  good  and  first-rate?     Is  she  a  foolish  person?" 

"Now,  now,  you  dear  little  Vraagal!"  said  Pan,  in  pallia- 
tion. "Everything  is  relative.  But  it  is  a  fact  that  she  looks 
more  like  the  Devil  than  I  do." 

"How  can  that  be?"  asked  Johannes,  in  amazement. 

Pan  grew  a  little  impatient.  "Does  that  puzzle  you? 
Then  ask  her  to  show  you  the  little  tree  she  has  in  her  safe, 
with  the  golden  apples  growing  on  it.      Do  not  forget  I  " 

"Good,  good!"  shouted  Wistik,  clapping  his  hands  with 
delight. 

At  this  moment  there  came  suddenly  from  the  distance  an 
alarming  sound  —  a  short,  hoarse,  resounding  roar  that  echoed 
through  the  forest. 

"The  lion!"  cried  Wistik;  and  away  he  went,  as  fast  as  he 
could  run. 

Johannes   also  was   greatly   frightened.     He   knew   it   was 


198  THEQUEST 

time  to  leave,  but  he  would  not  go  quite  yet.  He  asked,  im- 
ploringly: 

"Father  Pan,  shall  I  find  the  book?" 

"Remember  what  I  said  to  you,"  replied  Pan.  "Vraagal 
can  do  what  Vraagal  wills  to  do.  To  will  is  to  do.  But  it 
must  be  the  right  sort  of  will." 

Again  that  frightful  roar  resounded,  this  time  much  nearer. 
Johannes  stretched  out  his  hand,  hesitating  between  his 
mounting  fears,  and  his  desire  to  make  use  of  an  instant  more. 

"One  more  question!"  he  cried.     "Who  is  Markus?" 

At  that,  he  saw  Pan's  eyes  distend,  and  stare  at  him  with  a 
look  full  of  intense  emotion.  He  seemed  as  fiercely  sorrowful 
as  a  wounded  animal;  and,  until  now,  Johannes  had  not  ob- 
served what  beautiful  great  eyes  he  had.  He  lifted  up  his 
outspread  hands  —  then  covered  his  face  with  them,  and 
began  to  weep  and  wail,  loudly.  The  air  grew  dense  and 
dark,  and  a  heavy  shower  descended. 

Then,  for  the  third  time,  the  lion  roared.  .  .  . 


VIII 

"It's  a  downright  shame!"  said  Daatje,  snappishly,  while 
unfastening  the  third  shutter,  which  opened  with  a  shriek  and 
a  rumble.  Half  past-nine  —  on  Saturday,  at  that  —  and  the 
room  to  be  tidied  up  !  You'll  catch  it  from  Aunt  Serena. 
Half-past  nine  !     It's  a  downright  shame  !  " 

Johannes  was  not  pleased  with  this  famiharity,  as  if  he 
were  still  a  mere  child;  and,  in  a  rebellious  spirit,  without 
quite  understanding  his  own  object,  he  muttered:  "This 
thing's  got  to  end." 

With  Aunt  Serena,  disapproval  was  expressed  in  a  manner 
very  different  from  that  in  a  kermis-wagon.  There  was  no 
swearing,  nor  scolding,  nor  any  din;  and  no  cooking  utensils 
flew  out  of  the  window. 

But  Aunt  Serena  would  grow  a  little  paler,  her  fine  face 
become  cold  and  severe  like  marble,  and  the  very  few  words 
that  fell  from  her  lips  would  be  short  and  spoken  in  a  soft, 
low  voice.  She  knew  how,  though,  to  make  one  so  uncom- 
fortable in  this  way,  that  he  would  rather  she  had  thrown  a 
piece  of  the  tea-set  at  his  head. 

Johannes,  however,  neither  felt,  nor  evinced,  any  remorse. 
On  the  contrary,  he  assumed  an  independent  bearing.  He 
was  not  saucy,  but  wonderfully  indifferent;  neither  was  he 
morose,  but  cheerful  and  obliging;  for  his  thoughts  were  full 
of  that  beautiful  land  and  its  noble  people,  and  of  his  good 
Father  Pan.     Aunt  Serena,  herself,  felt  a  little  disconcerted. 

That  evening  the  circle  of  lady  friends  came  in  full  force. 
There  was  Juffrouw  Frederike  —  called  Free  —  tall  and 
bowed,  with  her  grey  hair  in  a  net.  There  was  Pietekoo, 
who  was  always  laughing,  and  saying  flattering  things,  but 
who  could,  also,  show  a  tart  side  upon  occasion.  There  was 
Suze,  who  had  the  name  of  being  so  musical,  and  who, 
pluming  herself  on  that  score,  kept  on  taking  piano  lessons  — 

199 


200  THEOUEST 

far  on  in  her  sixties  though  she  was.  There  was  the 
saintly  Koos,  who  had  once  leaped  into  the  water,  in  a 
religious  frenzy,  and  who  could  repeat  the  sermons,  word 
for  word.  There  was  the  quiet  Neeltje,  a  bit  round- 
shouldered,  and  very  negligent  in  her  dress,  who  never  said 
anything,  and  was  always  being  teased  about  suitors.  There 
was  the  widow  Slot,  who,  in  her  deep  voice,  uttered  short, 
sarcastic  comments,  mostly  at  the  expense  of  poor  Neeltje. 
There  was  Miebet,  the  beauty  of  the  company,  toward 
whom  Johannes  felt  a  special  aversion.  They  all  brought 
their  hand-work,  and  were  speedily  deep  in  conversa- 
tion. Johannes  was  greeted  in  a  friendly  way  as  "  dear 
boy"  and  "good  boy,"  but,  after  that,  as  always,  was  left  in 
peace. 

It  did  seem,  listening  to  their  conversation,  as  if  love  and 
meekness  reigned  undisturbed  in  their  hearts.  It  was  an 
uninterrupted  competition  in  generosity,  each  striving  to  be 
foremost  in  helping  the  others  to  the  footstools,  the  cozy  places, 
and  the  various  delicacies.  Miebet  said  that  she  had  only 
one  defect  —  this  one,  that  she  always  thought  of  others  first, 
and  herself  last.  From  this  single  defect  one  could  perceive, 
by  comparison,  the  nature  and  number  of  her  virtues.  To 
the  saintliness  of  Koos,  according  to  her  own  testimony,  even 
Daatje  and  Aunt  Serena  would  have  to  yield  precedence. 
She  could  repeat,  word  for  word,  the  long,  closing  prayer  of 
the  previous  Sunday,  and  stood  alone  in  this  proficiency. 
Johannes  noticed  that  she  could  neither  read  nor  write,  nor 
even  tell  the  time,  but  cunningly  contrived  to  hide  her  igno- 
rance. Juffrouw  Frederike,  who  was  wont  to  enumerate  the 
excruciating  pains  that  her  poor  health  inflicted  upon  her, 
was  not  silent  concerning  the  heavenly  patience  with  which 
she  endured  these  trials,  and  the  indifference  of  the  world 
toward  her  sufferings. 

At  seven  o'clock  came  the  dominie.  He  was  greeted  re- 
spectfully, and  with  a  tender  solicitude,  while  he  made 
interested  and  condescending  inquiries  after  health   and  cir- 


THE    QUEST  201 

cumstances.  Also,  he  admired  and  praised  the  products  of 
womanly  industry,  deducing  therefrom  weighty  and  forceful 
morals  that  were  listened  to  in  thoughtful  silence. 

Johannes  had  received  a  cold,  limp  hand-shake.  He  felt 
that  he  had  been  a  long  time  in  disfavor.  Neither  had  Aunt 
Serena's  stiffness  relaxed,  and  she  looked  at  him  now  and 
then,  restlessly,  as  if  wishing  and  expecting  that  he  would 
show  signs  of  repentance  or  submissiveness.  And  it  seemed 
as  if  the  entire  circle  concerned  themselves  less  about  him 
than  ever. 

He  sat  still  in  his  corner,  turning  the  leaves  of  his  penny 
magazine,  his  little  heart  brave  and  not  at  all  disquieted. 
But  he  did  not  see  much  of  the  engravings,  and  felt  more  than 
at  other  times  constrained  to  listen  to  the  talking. 

Then,  while  all  gave  quiet  attention.  Aunt  Serena  began 
an  enumeration  of  all  the  petty  trifles  and  knick-knacks  which 
had  been  brought  together  this  time  for  the  "tombola": 
"three  napkin-rings,  two  corner-brackets,  one  waste-paper 
basket  worked  with  worsted,  seven  anti-macassars,  a  knitting- 
needle  holder,  two  sofa-pillows,  one  lamp-shade,  the  beautiful 
fire-screen  made  by  Free,  two  picture-frames,  four  pincush- 
ions, one  needle-book,  one  patchwork  quilt,  one  pair  of  slip- 
pers, by  Miebet,  one  reticule,  one  painted  teacup,  two 
flower-pieces  made  of  bread,  one  cabinet  of  shells,  one  straw 
thread-winder,  seventeen  book-marks,  eight  pen-wipers,  one 
small  postage-stamp  picture,  two  decorated  cigar-cases,  one 
ash-holder.     That  is  all,  I  believe." 

"Aunt  Serena,"  said  Johannes,  over  the  top  of  his  penny 
magazine,  "do  you  know  what  else  you  ought  to  count 
m  r 

A  moment  of  suspense  followed.  All  eyes  were  turned 
upon  him.  Aunt  Serena  looked  surprised,  but  kindly  in- 
quisitive. The  dominie  suspected  something,  and  his  brows 
contracted. 

"What,  my  dear  boy!"  asked  Aunt  Serena. 

"A  couple  of  gold  apples,  from  your  little  tree." 


202  THEOUEST 

There  followed  a  moment  of  subdued  silence.  Then  Aunt 
Serena,  with  a  self-restrained  but  severe  manner,  asked: 

"What  tree  do  you  mean,  Johannes?" 

"The  little  tree  you  have  in  your  chest,  with  the  gold  apples 
growing  on  it." 

Again  silence,  but  all  understood;  that  was  clear.  Piete- 
koo  even  tittered.  The  others  exchanged  significant  glances. 
Aunt  Serena's  pale  face  flushed  perceptibly,  and  she  shot  a 
glance  at  the  dominie  over  her  spectacles.  The  dominie  took 
the  affair  very  calmly,  gave  Johannes  a  cold,  disdainful  look, 
as  much  as  to  say  that  he  had  all  along  had  his  measure,  and 
then,  while  his  eyes  narrowed  in  a  smile,  he  signified  to  Aunt 
Serena,  by  a  quieting  motion  of  the  hand,  that  she  ought  not 
to  bestow  any  thought  upon  such  a  matter.  Thereupon,  with 
assumed  unprejudice,  and  in  a  sprightly  tone,  he  said: 

"This  is,  indeed,  a    fine  'tombola'!" 

But  Aunt  Serena  was  not  to  be  appeased  in  this  way.  She 
threw  back  her  rustling,  purple  silk  cap-strings  with  a  nervous, 
trembling  gesture  (in  her  the  betrayal  of  vehement  emotion), 
and,  standing  up,  motioned  to  Johannes  to  follow  her  into  the 
vestibule. 

Closing  the  door  of  the  room  behind  her:  "Johannes!"  said 
she,  in  a  voice  not  quite  within  control,  "Johannes,  I  will  not 
suflPer  this!  To  think  of  you  making  me  appear  ridiculous 
to  others!  For  shame!  And  after  all  the  good  I  thought  to 
have  done  you!  Ought  you  to  have  grieved  your  old  aunt  so  ? 
For  shame,  Johannes!     It  is  mean  and  ungrateful  of  you!" 

With  a  face  almost  as  pale  as  that  of  his  aunt,  Johannes 
looked  straight  up  into  her  glistening  glasses.  There  were 
tears  in  her  voice,  and  Johannes  saw  them  appear  from  under 
the  spectacles,  and  slowly  trickle  down  along  the  delicate  lines 
of  her  cheeks. 

It  was  Johannes'  turn,  now,  to  feel  badly.  He  was  utterly 
confounded.  Who  was  right  —  Father  Pan  or  Aunt  Serena  ? 
In  such  straits  was  he  that  he  would  rather  be  running  the 
streets  at  such  a  pace  as  never  to  get  back  again. 


THEQUEST  203 

The  street  door  stood  ajar,  the  autumn  day  was  drawing  to 
its  close  in  a  melancholy  twilight,  and  a  drizzling  rain  was 
falling.     Daatje  was  standing  outside,  talking  with  some  one. 

"Aunt  Serena,"  said  Johannes,  trying  hard  to  control  him- 
self, "  I  know  that  I  am  wicked,  but  I  really  will  be  good — ■ 
really  —  if  only  I  knew.   .   .   ." 

Just  then  there  came  from  outside  a  sound  which  made  him 
quiver  with  agitation.  It  thrilled  through  marrow  and  bone, 
and  he  felt  his  knees  giving  way.  It  was  the  sharp,  rasping 
sound  of  steel  being  held  against  the  whetstone;  and  through 
the  door-crack  he  saw  the  glitter  of  that  beautiful  fountain  of 
golden  sparks. 

It  sounded  to  him  like  a  blessed  tidings  —  like  the  utterance 
of  mercy  to  one  condemned. 

"That  is  Markus!"  he  cried,  with  heightened  color  and 
shining  eyes. 

Aunt  Serena  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  There,  bowed 
over  his  work,  stood  Markus.  Again,  he  was  treading  the 
wheel  of  the  old  cart,  the  one  with  the  footboard.  As  before, 
the  water  was  dripping  from  his  old  cap,  down  upon  his  faded 
raincoat.  His  face  was  sad,  and  there  were  deep  lines  about 
his  mouth. 

"Markus!"  cried  Johannes;  and,  springing  forward,  he 
threw  his  arms  around  him,  and  pressed  his  head  caressingly 
against  the  wet  clothing. 

"For  the  love  of  Christ,  Boy!  What  are  you  doing  ?"  said 
Daatje.     "What  Romish  freak  is  this.?" 

"Oh,  Aunt  Serena!"  cried  Johannes.  "May  he  not  come 
indoors  ?  He  is  so  wet,  and  so  tired!  He  is  a  good  man  — 
my  best  friend." 

Daatje  placed  her  arms  akimbo,  and  stepped  angrily  in 
front  of  Aunt  Serena  and  the  doorway. 

"Now,  I'll  attend  to  that.  The  dear  Lord  preserve  us! 
Such  a  dirty  lout  of  a  gypsy  come  into  my  clean  marble  hall! 
That's  altogether  too  much!" 

But  Aunt  Serena,  in  that  earnest  tone  which  had  always 


204  THEQUEST 

been  a  command  for  Daatje  —  admitting  no  oppositions  — 
said :  "  Daatje,  go  back  to  the  kitchen.  I  will  settle  this  matter 
myself." 

And  turning  toward  Markus  she  asked:  "Will  you  not  come 
in  and  rest  V 

Slowly  straightening  himself  up,  Markus  replied:  "I  will, 
Madam."  And  he  laid  down  his  scissors,  took  off  his  cap, 
and  walked  in. 

This  time  Daatje  was  disobedient,  for  she  did  not  return  to 
the  kitchen,  but  remained,  arms  still  akimbo,  repeatedly 
shaking  her  head,  surveying  the  intruder  with  horror  — 
especially  his  feet,  and  the  old  coat  which  he  hung  upon  the 
hat-rack.  And,  when  Aunt  Serena  actually  let  him  out  of 
the  vestibule  into  the  room  itself,  she  tarried  behind  the  un- 
closed door,  anxiously  listening. 

Within  the  room  a  dead  stillness  ensued.  The  dominie's 
face  took  on  an  expression  of  utter  amazement,  while  he  lifted 
his  eyebrows  very  high,  and  thrust  out  his  pursed-up  lips. 
Pietekoo  tittered  in  her  embarrassment,  and  then  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands.  The  others  looked,  now  with  a  puzzled  mien 
at  Markus,  then  in  doubtful  expectation  at  Aunt  Serena,  with 
distrust  at  Johannes,  with  very  expressive  glances  at  one 
another,  and  finally,  with  pretended  absorption  in  their  hand- 
work.    The  silence  was  still  unbroken. 

"Will  you  take  something?"  asked  Aunt  Serena. 

"Yes,  Madam,  a  bit  of  bread,"  said  Markus,  in  his  calm, 
gentle  voice. 

"Would  younot  rather  have  aglass  of  wine,  and  somecake  ?" 

"No,  Madam,  if  you  will  excuse  me;  I  prefer  common 
bread." 

The  dominie  thought  it  time  to  intervene.  He  was  stung 
by  the  censure  conveyed  in  Markus'  refusal. 

"The  Scripture  teaches,  my  friend,  that  we  should  eat  what 
is  set  before  us,  when  we  are  guests." 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  theologian  —  or  for  an  apostle?" 
asked  Markus. 


THEQUEST  205 

"He  has  the  gift  of  gab,"  said  Mevrouw  Slot,  in  her  coarse 
voice. 

In  those  pure  accents  which  held  Johannes  breathlessly 
attentive,  Markus  continued:  "I  will  even  sit  at  table  with 
witches,  but  not  necessarily  eat  of  their  food." 

"Dear  me!  Dear  me!"  said  the  dominie,  and  the  ladies 
cried:  "Good  gracious T'  and  other  exclamations  of  disap- 
proval and  indignation.  "Be  a  little  less  uncivil,  friend;  you 
are  not  with  your  own  kind  here." 

Markus  continued,  in  a  calm,  friendly  tone:  "Theologians, 
however,  thank  God  for  many  a  rude  truth,  and  know,  also, 
how  to  take  parables.  Even  when  with  cannibals,  an  apostle 
need  not  eat  human  flesh." 

Widow  Slot,  who  alone  of  all  in  the  circle  seemed  to  have 
retained  her  coolness,  here  interposed ;  "  We  have  not 
improved,  yet." 

Markus  turned  toward  her  and  said  with  great  earnest- 
ness: 

"Who  are  they  who  have  their  portion  ?  Are  not  the  poorest 
ones  they  who  drink  wine  and  eat  cake,  and  yet  produce  not 
even  bread .''  Every  day  they  sink  deeper  into  debt.  I  prefer 
to  eat  honest  food." 

"You  mistake,  my  man!  I  have  no  debts!"  cried  Aunt 
Serena,  with  trembling  lips. 

"But,  Aunt  Serena,  he  does  not  mean  that,"  said  Johannes, 
as  much  moved  as  herself. 

"Children  must  be  silent,  here!"  cried  the  dominie, 
angrily. 

"  If  the  children  are  silent  here,  w^ho  is  there  to  speak  sense  ? " 
continued  Markus.  And  then,  with  a  gentle,  penetrating 
voice,  he  addressed  Aunt  Serena.  "Whoever  will  not  listen 
to  children,  the  Father  will  not  understand.  I  spoke  in 
metaphor  —  in  a  simple  way,  for  simple  people.  The  whole 
world  is  a  metaphor,  and  not  a  simple  one.  If  we  do  not  yet 
understand  such  a  simple  metaphor,  then  the  world  must 
indeed  remain  a  sad  riddle." 


2o6  THEQUEST 

The  dominie  held  his  peace,  and  smoked  fiercely;  but  Aunt 
Serena  thought  it  over,  looking  in  front  of  her,  and  said;  "All 
understanding  comes  through  the  light  of  grace." 

Markus  nodded,  kindly.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "for  those  who 
unbolt  the  shutters  and  throw  open  the  windows.  And  the 
sun  will  shine  even  through  little  windows." 

Then  he  ceased  speaking  and  ate  his  bread.  No  one 
said  anything  more,  unless  in  a  whisper  to  his  next 
neighbor. 

When  Markus  had  eaten  he  stood  up  and  said:  "Thank 
you.     Good  night!" 

Johannes  also  stood  up,  and  said  anxiously:  "Markus, 
You  are  not  going  away  ? " 

"Yes,  Johannes.     Good-by  till  we  meet  again!" 

Then  he  passed  silently  out  of  the  door,  took  his  cap  and 
coat,  and  was  let  out  by  Daatje.  Johannes  heard  her  ask: 
"How  much  did  you  get.''"  And  when  Markus  said  simply: 
"Twopence,"  he  felt  a  twinge  at  his  heart.  Indoors,  no  one 
spoke  so  long  as  the  creaking  of  the  cart-wheel  could  be  heard. 
Then  the  dominie,  in  a  loud  tone,  and  with  assumed  lightness, 
said: 

"That  was  a  venturesome  deed,  dear  Madam.  You  ought 
to  be  more  cautious  in  future  with  that  altogether  too-largely 
developed  philanthropy  of  yours.  That  man  is  known  as  a 
very  dangerous  individual." 

Exclamations  of  astonishment  and  alarm  followed  this, 
and  different  ladies  cried:  "Goodness!"  "It's  a  sin!"  "Do 
you  know  him  ?" 

"Alas,  indeed  I  do!"  averred  the  dominie,  with  a  con- 
temptuous shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "He  is  a  well-known 
person  - —  one  of  those  fanatics  who  incite  the  people  and 
poison  their  natures:  a  nihilist." 

"A  nihilist!"  echoed  the  ladies,  frightened  and  horrified. 
Poor  Johannes  sat  listening  to  Dominie  Kraalboom  with  pain- 
ful interest.  The  name  "nihilist"  did  not  make  him  afraid, 
but  such  notoriety  was  a  bitter  disappointment.     It  was  as  if 


THEQUEST  207 

thereby    all   the  mysterious  superiority  of  his  beloved  friend 
had  been  leveled.     Had  it,  then,  all  been  a  fraud  ? 

When  the  circle  had  taken  their  leave,  and  Aunt  Serena  was 
going  to  bed,  he  saw  Daatje  very  carefully  counting  the  silver 
spoons! 


IX 

"Listen,  JufFrouw, "  said  Daatje,  the  following  morning, 
when  all  was  ready  lor  going  to  church,  "for  forty  years  I  have 
served  you  faithfully  and  well;  but  I  just  want  to  say  to  you, 
that  if  you  bring  any  more  heathen  or  Hottentots  into  the  house 
—  into  the  parlor,  rather  —  in  the  future,  /  will  leave  in  a 
jiffy,  as  sure  as  fate!" 

"Will  you,  Daatje  ?"  said  Aunt  Serena,  drily,  asking  for  her 
prayer-book.  Johannes  sat  stiffly  in  his  Sunday  collar,  strug- 
gling to  draw  his  thread  gloves  smoothly  over  his  finger-tips. 
Then,  under  two  umbrellas,  the  three  set  out  for  church. 

Already  Dominie  Kraalboom  was  sitting  in  the  chancel, 
busily  stroking  his  freshly  shaven  cheeks,  and  thoughtfully 
watching  the  coming  in  of  his  flock.  Not  one  of  the  circle 
was  missing.  The  clothing  of  the  congregation,  wet  with  rain, 
gave  out  a  peculiar  odor;  chairs  were  noisily  shoved  about  over 
the  flat,  blue  tombstones,  while  above  the  sound  of  shuffling 
feet  and  of  slamming  doors  the  deep  throbbing  of  the  organ 
was  heard. 

The  dominie  soon  caught  sight  of  Johannes  ;  and  the  little 
man  had  cause  to  feel  conceited  by  reason  of  all  the  attention 
paid  him.  Johannes  said  to  himself  that  it  certainly  must  be  his 
own  imagining  (for  what  could  such  a  great  man  have  to  do 
with  a  little  boy  ?)  but  it  appeared  as  if  the  entire  sermon  was 
written  for,  and  especially  aimed  at,  Johannes. 

The  text  was:  "Who  shall  understand  his  errors  ?  Cleanse 
thou  me  from  secret  faults." 

The  dominie  dwelt  upon  the  sin  of  arrogance,  and  the  num- 
bers of  young  people  who  were  wrecked  through  it  ere  they 
rightly  understood  what  it  was,  and  said  that  they  ought  to 
desire  to  be  cleansed  from  it. 

Young  people,  said  the  dominie,  were  conceited  and 
presumptuous,    and    full   of  evil;   but   they  were   themselves 

208 


THEQUEST  209 

unconscious  of  it.  They  thought  they  knew  more  than  their 
elders,  and  they  Hstened,  far  too  wilhngly,  to  pernicious  dogmas 
that  would  make  all  men  equal  —  that  would  reason  away 
royal  and  divine  authority,  and  that  made  people  rebellious, 
and  discontented  with  the  sphere  in  which  God  had  placed 
them. 

"The  true  Christian,"  said  the  dominie,  "cares  for  neither 
gold  nor  goods.  He  has  higher  aspirations.  If  he  be  blessed 
with  them,  let  him  manage  them  well,  for  they  are  only  lent  to 
him.  If  he  be  poor,  then  let  him  not  repine  nor  complain, 
knowing  that  everything  is  ordered  for  the  best,  and  that  true 
riches  are  not  of  this  world." 

It  was  a  fine  sermon.  Johannes  and  his  aunt  both  listened 
attentively.  The  precentor  looked  pleased,  and  the  saintly 
Koos  nodded  repeatedly.  Neeltje,  alone,  slept;  but,  as  every- 
body knew,  that  was  because  of  her  nervous  trouble. 

The  entire  congregation  joined  spiritedly  in  the  singing, 
and  the  dominie  sat  down  visibly  self-satisfied. 

Once,  Johannes  looked  around,  and,  close  by  the  door, 
athwart  the  chancel  in  the  shadow,  beheld,  supported  by  a 
slender  hand,  a  bowed  head  with  dark  hair! 

He  knew  the  hand  well,  and  recognized  instantly  that  dark- 
haired  man.  Again  and  again  he  felt  constrained  to  look  in 
that  direction.  The  figure  remained  sitting,  motionless,  and 
in  a  bowed  posture. 

But  when  the  singing  came  to  an  end,  and  the  dominie  de- 
liberately made  ready  to  continue  his  sermon.  .  .  .  Surely, 
the  dark  head  was  lifted  up!  Markus  regarded  the  faces  about 
him  for  an  instant,  with  a  sorrowful  look,  and  then  he  stood 
erect. 

Johannes'  heart  began  to  thump.  "Was  he  going  away? 
What  was  he  going  to  do?     Oh,  dear!     Oh,  dear!" 

But  Markus,  taking  advantage  of  that  pause  wherein  the 
people  in  a  congregation  are  wont  to  cough,  to  make  use  of 
their  handkerchiefs,  and  to  compose  themselves  again  for 
listening,  began  speaking  in  his  gentle,  musical  voice: 


210  THEQUEST 

"My  friends,  excuse  me  for  addressing  you  unbidden,  but 
you  know  that  it  is  always  permitted  to  bear  witness  of  the 
Father,  if  one  can  do  so  truthfully." 

In  perplexity,  the  congregation  looked  from  the  speaker  to 
Dominie  Kraalboom.  The  precentor,  also,  directed  his 
frightened  eyes  to  the  chancel  up  behind  him,  as  if  expect- 
ing from  that  quarter  deliverance  from  this  extraordinary 
difficulty. 

Dominie  Kraalboom  grew  very  red,  and,  speaking  in  his 
most  impressive  tones  —  rolling  his  r's,  for  he  was  really 
angry —  he  said:  "I  beseech  you  not  to  disturb  the  order  of 
this  church." 

Markus,  however,  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  these 
words.  His  voice  rang  clearer  than  ever  through  the  chill, 
lofty  spaces.  The  people  listened,  and  the  dominie  had  no 
alternative  but  to  be  silent  or  to  shout  the  louder,  which  latter 
expedient  he  renounced  from  a  sense  of  dignity. 

"My  poor  friends,"  said  Markus,  "does  it  not  alarm  you 
that  there  are  wrong-doings  of  which  you  are  not  conscious  ? 
Is  it  not  sad  to  be  guilty  and  not  to  know  it  ?" 

"If  we,  poor  souls,  forgive  those  who  unconsciously  wrong 
us,  will  not  our  Father  forgive  us  ? 

"But  to  wander  is  to  wander,  and  not  to  follow  the  straight 
course:  and  he  who  errs,  though  he  may  know  it  not,  does  not 
do  right,  although  he  may  intend  a  thousand  times  to  do  the 

"And  he  who  continues  to  wander  gets  lost;  for  the  Father's 
justice  is  inalterable  and  unfailing. 

"And  yet,  my  poor  friends,  the  Father's  forgiveness  is  for 
every  one,  even  the  poorest  wanderer.     His  mercy  is  for  all. 

"And  His  forgiveness  is  called  knowledge,  and  the  name 
of  His  mercy  is  insight. 

"These  are  bestowed  upon  every  one  who  does  not  reject 
them;  and  no  one  will  be  lost  who  makes  use  of  them. 

"Therefore,  the  Psalmist  begged  to  be  cleansed  from  secret 
faults.     He  knew  that  we  know  not  ourselves  how  very  guilty 


THE    QUEST  211 

we  are.  And  He  knew  that  the  enlightening  and  purifying 
fire  of  confession  is  of  the  Father's  mercy. 

"Has  ever  a  thirsty  one  continued  to  wander  away  from  the 
water,  after  recognizing  his  mistake  ? 

"Who  of  us  does  not  long  for  forgiveness  and  blessedness? 
Or  who  would  continue  to  err  after  confession  ? 

"Confess,  then,  and  will  to  look  within.  It  is  never  too 
late  to  do  so. 

"We  are  guilty,  my  poor  friends:  confess  it  and  there  will 
be  forgiveness,  but  not  without  knowledge  thereof.  The 
least  among  you  can  understand  this,  if  only  he  will. 

"It  was  not  the  Father  who  willed  that  you  should  be  poor, 
and  rich  —  the  poor  laboring,  the  rich  idling.  It  would  be 
abominable  blasphemy  to  say  that.  Believe  it  not.  Shun 
as  defiling  those  who  would  thus  delude  you. 

"Not  by  divine  ordering,  but  through  human  mismanage- 
ment, wickedness,  and  foolishness,  and  the  wandering  away 
from  the  Father's  will,  have  poverty  and  riches  come  into  this 
human  world. 

"Acknowledge  it;  for,  truly,  there  will  be  no  forgiveness  for 
those  who  reject  the  Father's  mercy." 

Here  Dominie  Kraalboom  beckoned  to  the  sexton  and  the 
precentor,  who  were  standing  together  whispering  with  con- 
siderable vehemence,  casting  furious  looks  at  the  speaker. 
The  sexton  coughed  and  mounted  the  pulpit.  The  dominie 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  him,  and,  with  a  resigned  air, 
half-closed  eyes,  and  a  face  as  severe  as  possible,  went  to 
resume  his  seat.  The  sexton  strode  resolutely  through  the 
church,  and  left  the  building,  all  eyes  following  him  in  sus- 
pense. 

Imperturbably,   Markus   proceeded: 

"My  poor  friends,  did  ever  an  artist  create  a  grand  master- 
piece, and  desire  that  no  one  should  admire  it  ? 

"Would  the  Father,  then,  have  made  the  mountains,  seas, 
and  flowers,  gold  and  jewels,  and  have  desired  that  we  should 
despise  and  reject  them  all  ? 


212  THE    QUEST 

"No;  the  highest  good  belongs  not  to  this  world,  and  neither 
does  the  beauty  of  the  universe  belong  to  this  world.  Yet 
even  here  —  upon  this  earth  —  we  may  learn  to  know  and  to 
admire;  for  why  else  were  we  placed  in  this  world  ? 

"Let  us  admire  not  the  mere  wood  and  strings,  but  the 
music  of  them;  not  paint  and  canvas,  but  the  eternal  beauty 
to  which  they  do  homage. 

"So  we  shall  love  the  world,  and  admire  it  only  as  that  by 
means  of  which  the  Father  speaks  to  us;  and  whoever  despises 
the  world  despises  the  voice  of  the  Father. 

"Will  not  he  who  receives  a  letter  from  his  distant  love 
kiss  the  dry  paper,  and  wet  the  black  ink  with  his  tears  ? 

"Shall  we,  then,  hate  the  world,  through  which  alone,  in 
our  alienation,  the  Father  reveals  to  us  his  beauty  ?" 

Markus'  voice  was  so  deep-toned,  and  so  sweet  to  hear,  that 
many  listeners  were  moved,  even  although  they  only  half  under- 
stood. Tears  were  streaming  freely  from  Johannes'  shining, 
wide-open  eyes.  Aunt  Serena,  too,  looked  agitated,  and 
Neeltje,  even,  had  waked  up.  The  dominie  scowled  blackly, 
with  closed  eyes,  like  one  about  to  lose  his  forbearance. 
The  precentor  looked  nervously  toward  the  door. 

Again  Markus  began: 

"My  friends,  how  shall  the  poor,  who  compulsorily  toil,  and 
the  rich,  who  compel  them,  comprehend  the  sacred  message 
of  the  Father .? 

"Must  they  always  remain  both  deaf  and  blind  to  what  is 
best  and  most  beautiful  ^  Must  they  see  and  hear  nothing 
of  this  ? 

''  Sooner  can  the  sunlight  penetrate  dungeon-doors  of  three- 
fold thickness,  than  can  the  light  of  the  Father's  loving  kind- 
ness and  the  radiance  of  His  beauty  enter  the  soul  of  the 
stupefied  drudge. 

"Upon  the  sands  of  the  sea  grow  neither  grapes  nor  roses. 
In  the  heart  of  the  ovenvorked,  needy  sufferer  grows  neither 
beauty  nor  wisdom. 

"And  the  rich — who  purloin  the  good  things  which  the 


THEQUEST  213 

Father  has  given  to  others  —  who  are  served,  without  render- 
ing service  —  who  eat,  without  working,  and  found  their 
houses  upon  the  misery  of  others  —  how  can  these  compre- 
hend the  justice  of  the  Father? 

"Exceeding  sweetness  shall  turn  to  gall  in  the  rich  man's 
stomach;  illicit  pleasure  shall  waste  him  away  like  sorrow; 
wisdom,  unrighteously  acquired,  shall  turn  in  him  to  despair 
and  madness. 

"The  rich  man  is  like  one  who  takes  away  the  fire  of  many 
others,  that  he  may  always  keep  himself  warm;  but  the  heat 
consumes  him.  He  will  have  all  the  water,  that  he  may  never 
again  thirst;  but  he  is  drowned.  Yet  unto  all  the  Father  has 
given  light  and  water  in  equal  measure. 

"No  one  escapes  the  Father's  justice.  The  rich  have  their 
reward  as  they  go;  and  in  want  shall  they  envy  those  whom 
they  robbed  while  they  were  still  upon  earth. 

"Admit,  then,  my  poor  friends,  that  it  is  not  the  Father's 
will  that  there  should  be  poverty  and  riches,  but  that  your  own 
wickedness  and  maliciousness  have  created  them  —  your  un- 
brotherliness  and  ignorance,  your  thirst  for  power  and  your 
servility. 

"Confess,  and  there  shall  be  forgiveness  for  the  most  guilty. 
Submit  and  humble  yourselves,  and  you  shall  be  exalted. 
Lift  up  your  hearts,  fear  not,  and  you  shall  be  saved.  Throw 
open  the  windows  and  the  light  will  stream  in." 

At  last,  there  was  a  creaking  of  the  heavy,  outside  door, 
which  was  held  shut  by  a  rope,  weighted  with  lead.  Then  fol- 
lowed several  more  long-drawn  creakings  of  the  pulley,  ere  the 
door  closed  with  a  dull  thud.  All  heads  were  again  turned  in 
that  direction.     The  dominie,  too,  looked  up,  visibly  relieved. 

And  Johannes,  stiff  with  terror,  saw,  in  the  rear  of  the 
sexton,  two  officers  —  two  common,  insignificant  policemen 
—  step  up  to  Markus  with  an  air  of  professional  sternness, 
albeit  with  a  rather  slouching  mien. 

Yes,  it  was  going  to  happen!     The  congregation  looked  on 


214  THEQUEST 

in  breathless  suspense.  The  sexton  bristled,  and  the  officers 
hesitatingly  prepared  themselves  for  a  struggle. 

But  before  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  helmeted  chief  had 
descended  upon  his  shoulder,  Markus  looked  round  and 
nodded  in  a  friendly  way  as  if  he  was  expecting  them. 
After  that,  he  looked  about  the  congregation  once  again,  and 
bade  them  farewell  with  a  cordial,  comforting  gesture  which 
seemed  to  come  to  all  as  a  surprise.  He  had  the  appearance, 
indeed,  of  one  who  was  being  conducted  by  two  lackeys  to  a 
feast,  instead  of  by  policemen  to  the  station. 

When  he  went  away,  the  officers  grasped  him  by  his  arms, 
as  firmly  as  if  they  were  resolutely  determined  not  to  let  him 
escape.  They  did  this  so  awkwardly,  and  Markus  was  so 
cheerfully  docile,  that  the  effect  was  very  comical,  and  several 
people  smiled. 

The  dominie  spoke  a  few  more  words,  and  made  a  long 
closing  prayer  which,  however,  was  not  listened  to  attentively. 
The  congregation  were  too  anxious  to  talk  over  what  had 
happened.  And  they  made  a  busy  beginning  even  before 
they  were  out  of  the  church. 

But  Aunt  Serena  and  Johannes  went  home  with  averted 
eyes,  and  in  anxious  silence,  without  exchanging  a  word  or  a 
look. 


Johannes  had  one  peculiarity  which  he  could  not  excuse  in 
himself.  His  good  intentions  and  heroic  resolves  always  came, 
according  to  his  own  opinion,  a  trifle  too  late.  He  might  be 
a  good  boy  yet,  he  thought,  if  only  things  did  not  happen  so 
suddenly  that  he  had  not  due  time  to  think  them  over  before 
he  needed  to  act.  Thus,  sitting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
breakfast  table  from  his  Aunt  Serena,  deliberating  whether  it 
would  still  be  proper,  after  the  agitating  events  of  the  morning, 
to  spread  his  first  roll,  as  usual,  with  sweet-milk  cheese,  and 
his  second  with  Deventer  cake,  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  him 
what  a  mean,  cowardly,  perfidious  boy  he  had  been.  He  felt 
that  any  other  brisk,  faithful  person  in  his  place  w^ould  have 
risen  up  instantly,  and  resisted  with  all  his  power  of  word  and 
deed  that  shameful  outrage  against  his  beloved  brother. 

Of  course,  there  had  been  something  for  him  to  do!  He 
ought  to  have  intervened,  instead  of  walking  home  again  with 
Aunt  Serena,  as  calmly  and  serenely  as  if  he  were  not  in 
the  least  concerned.  How  was  it  possible  —  how  couU  it  be 
possible,  that  he  only  now  perceived  this  ?  He  might  not, 
perhaps,  have  accomplished  anything;  but  that  was  not  the 
question.  Was  it  not  his  dearest  friend  who  was  concerned; 
and  had  he  not,  like  a  coward,  left  him  alone  ?  Was  not  that 
friend  now  sitting  among  thieves  in  a  musty  pen,  enduring  the 
insolence  of  policemen,  while  he  himself  was  here  in  Aunt 
Serena's  fine  house,  calmly  drinking  his  coflTee  ? 

That  must  not  be.  He  felt  very  sure  of  it,  now.  And 
since  Johannes,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  was  never  afraid 
to  do  a  thing  if  he  was  only  first  sure  about  it,  not  only  the 
cake  and  cheese,  but  even  the  rolls  and  coffee,  remained  un- 
touched.    He  suddenly  stood  up  and  said: 

"Aunt  Serena!" 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?" 

215 


2i6  THEQUEST 

"I  want  to  go!" 

Aunt  Serena  threw  back  her  head,  that  she  might  give  him 
a  good  look  through  her  spectacles.  Her  face  took  on  a  very 
grieved  expression. 

At  last,  after  a  long  pause,  she  asked,  in  her  gentle  voice, 
"What  do  you  mean.?" 

"I  want  to  go  away.  I  cannot  stand  it.  I  want  to  be 
with  my  friend." 

"Do  you  think  he  will  take  better  care  of  you  than  I  do, 
Johannes  ?" 

"I  do  not  believe  that,  Aunt  Serena,  but  he  is  being  treated 
unfairly.     He  is  in  the  right." 

"I  will  not  take  it  upon  myself  .  .  ."  said  Aunt  Serena, 
hesitating,  "to  say  that  he  is  wrong.  I  am  not  clever  enough 
for  that.  I  am  only  an  old  woman,  and  have  not  studied 
much,  although  I  have  thought  and  experienced  a  great  deal. 
I  will  readily  admit  that  perhaps  I  was  at  fault  without  know- 
ing it.  I  did  my  best,  to  the  best  of  my  belief.  But  how 
many  there  are,  better  than  I  am,  Johannes,  who  think  your 
friend  in  the  wrong!" 

"Are  they  also  better  than  he  is  ?"  asked  Johannes. 
•  "Who  can  say?  How  long  have  you  known  this  friend  — 
and  whom  of  the  people  have  you  known  besides  ^  But  al- 
though your  friend  were  right,  how  would  it  help  me,  and 
what  would  it  matter  to  me  ?  Must  I,  in  my  sixty-fourth 
year,  give  away  all  that  I  have,  and  go  out  house-cleaning  ? 
Do  you  mean  that  I  ought  to  do  that,  Johannes  ?" 

Johannes  was  perplexed.      "I   do  not  say  that,  dear  Aunt 

S'      >> 
erena. 

"  But,  what  do  you  say,  then  ?  And  what  do  you  want  of 
me  r 

Johannes  was  silent. 

"You  see,  Johannes  .  .  ."  continued  Aunt  Serena,  with  a 
break  in  her  voice  —  not  looking  at  him  now,  but  staring  hard 
at  her  cofFee-tray  —  "I  never  have  had  any  children,  and  all 
the  people  whom  I  have  been  very  fond  of  are  either  dead  or 


THE    QUEST  217 

gone  away.  My  friends  do,  indeed,  show  me  much  cordiahty. 
On  my  birthday  I  had  forty-four  calls,  two  hundred  and 
eleven  cards  and  notes,  and  about  fifty  presents;  but  that, 
however,  is  not  for  me  true  life.  The  life  of  the  old  is  so  barren 
if  no  young  are  growing  near.  I  have  not  complained  about 
it,  and  have  submitted  to  God's  will.  But  since  .  .  .  for  a 
few  months  .  .  .  you  ...  I  thought  it  a  blessing  —  a  dis- 
pensation from  God  .  .  ." 

Aunt  Serena's  voice  grew  so  broken  and  hoarse  that  she 
stopped  speaking,  and  began  to  rummage  in  her  work-basket. 

Johannes  felt  very  tenderly  toward  her,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if,  in  two  seconds,  he  had  become  much  older  and 
wiser;  yes,  as  if  he  had  even  grown,  visibly,  and  was  taller 
than  a  moment  before.  Never  yet  had  he  spoken  with  such 
dignity. 

"My  dear  Aunt,  I  really  am  not  ungrateful.  I  think  you 
are  good.  More  than  almost  any  other  you  have  been  kind 
to  me.  But  yet  I  must  go.  My  conscience  tells  me  so. 
I  would  be  willing  to  stay,  you  see;  but  still  I  am  going  because 
it  is  best.  If  you  say,  'You  must  not,'  then  I  cannot  help  it; 
I  think,  though,  that  I  will  quietly  run  away.  I  am  truly 
sorry  to  cause  you  sadness,  but  you  will  soon  hear  of  an  — 
another  boy,  or  a  girl,  who  will  make  you  happier.  I  must 
find  my  friend  —  my  conscience  tells  me  so.  Are  you  going 
to  say,  Aunt  Serena,  that  I  must  not.?" 

Aunt  Serena  had  taken  out  her  worsted  work,  and  appeared 
to  be  comparing  colors.     Then,  very  slowly,  she  replied: 

"No,  I  shall  not  say  that,  my  dear  boy;  at  least,  if  you  have 
thought  it  all  over  well." 

"I  have,  Aunt  Serena,"  said  Johannes. 

Being  deeply  anxious,  he  wished  to  go  instantly  to  learn 
where  Markus  had  been  taken.  After  that  he  would  return 
to  "Vrede-best." 

He  mounted  the  stone  steps  of  the  police  station  with  dread 
and  distaste.     The  officers,  who  were  sitting  outside  on  chairs, 


2i8  THEQUEST 

received  him,  according  to  their  wont,  with  scant  courtesy. 
The  chief  eyed  Johannes,  after  the  latter's  bashful  inquiry, 
with  a  scornful  expression,  which  seemed  to  say:  "What  busi- 
ness is  it  of  yours,  and  where  have  I  seen  you  before  ?" 

Johannes  learned,  however,  that  "the  prisoner"  had  been 
set  free.  What  use  he  had  made  of  his  freedom  Johannes 
must  find  out  for  himself. 

As  he  could  give  no  other  reason  for  his  interest  in  the 
prisoner  than  that  he  was  his  friend,  and  as  this  reason  was 
not  enough  to  exalt  him  in  the  esteem  of  police  authority, 
none  of  the  functionaries  felt  called  upon  to  put  him  on  the 
track.  They  supposed  that  the  scissors-grinder  had  very 
likely  gone  back  to  the  Fair.  That  was  all  the  help  they 
gave. 

Johannes  returned  to  his  aunt's  baffled  and  in  dismay. 
There,  happily,  he  found  relief;  for  the  good  aunt  had  already 
discovered  that  Markus  had  been  led  out  of  the  town,  and 
that,  with  his  cart,  he  had  taken  the  road  to  Utrecht.  Already, 
lying  in  plain  sight,  he  saw  a  large,  old-fashioned  satchel  of 
hairy  leather  (a  sort  of  bag  which  could  be  hung  about  one), 
full  of  neatly  packed  sandwiches  and  hard-boiled  eggs.  And 
in  the  inside  of  a  waistcoat  Aunt  Serena  had  sewed  a  small 
pocket.  Within  that  pocket  was  a  purse  containing  five  little 
gold-pieces. 

"I  do  not  give  you  more,  Johannes,  for  by  the  time  this  is 
gone  you  will  surely  know  if  you  really  wish  to  stay  away  for 
good  or  to  come  back  again.  Do  not  be  ashamed  to  return. 
I  will  not  say  anything  to  you  about  it." 

"I  will  be  honest,  and  give  it  back  to  you  when  I  have 
earned  it,"  said  Johannes.  He  spoke  in  sober  earnest;  but 
he  had,  no  more  than  had  his  aunt,  any  clear  expectation  that 
it  would  be  possible. 

Johannes  took  just  a  run  into  the  garden  to  say  good-by  to 
his  favorite  places  —  his  paths  and  his  flowers.  Swiftly  and 
shyly,  so  as  not  to  be  seen,  he  ran  past  the  kitchen  where 
Daatje,    loudly    singing    hymns    the    while,    stood    chopping 


THE    QUEST  219 

spinach.  After  that,  he  embraced  Aunt  Serena  in  the  vesti- 
bule for  the  first  and  for  the  last  time.  "Cuckoo!  Cuckoo!" 
came  insultingly  and  triumphantly  from  the  little  trap-door, 
as  the  clock  struck  two.  Then  the  stately  green  front  door 
closed  between  him  and  Aunt  Serena. 

That  was  a  painful  moment;  yet  there  quickly  followed  in 
Johannes'  heart  a  delightful  glow  —  a  feeling  of  freedom  such 
as  he  had  never  yet  known.  He  almost  felt  himself  a  man. 
He  had  extricated  himself  from  soft  and  perilous  ways ;  he 
was  going  out  into  the  wide  world;  he  would  find  his  beloved 
brother  again;  he  had  a  bagful  of  rolls,  and  in  his  waistcoat 
were  five  gold-pieces.  These  last  were  only  lent  to  him;  he 
would  earn  as  much,  and  give  them  back  again. 

It  was  a  still,  humid,  August  day,  and  Johannes,  full  of 
gladness,  saw  his  beautiful  native  land  lying  in  white  light 
under  a  canopy  of  delicate  grey.  He  saw  thickly  wooded 
dikes,  black  and  white  cattle,  and  brown  boats  in  water 
without  a  ripple.  He  walked  briskly,  inquiring  every- 
where for  Markus  the  scissors-grinder.  In  front  of  an 
inn,  not  far  from  the  city,  sat  three  httle  gentlemen.  They 
were  apparently  government  or  post-office  clerks,  who  had 
taken  their  midday  stroll  and  their  glass  of  bitters. 

Johannes  asked  information  of  the  waiter  who  brought 
drinks,  but  received  no  answer. 

One  of  the  little  dandies,  who  had  heard  his  question,  said 
to  his  companions: 

"Jerusalem!  but  did  you  chaps  hear  that  kicker.?  The 
fellow  went  into  the  new  church  yesterday  morning,  and 
talked  back  at  the  dominie." 

"What  fellow?"  asked  the  others. 

"Good  Lord!  Don't  you  know  him?  That  half-luny 
fellow  with  the  black  curly-pate  ?  He  does  that  now  and 
then." 

"  Gee  !      That's  rich.      And  what  did  the  dominie  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  found  it  no  joke,  for  the  fellow  knew  all  about 


220  THEQUEST 

it  —  as  darned  well  as  he  did  himself.  But  the  gypsy  had 
his  trouble  for  his  pains;  for  that  time  the  dominie  wouldn't 
have  anything  to  do  with  such  a  dirty  competitor!" 

And  the  three  friends  laughed  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

"How  did  it  end  ?" 

"He  had  him  walked  clean  out  of  the  church,  by  the  sexton 
and  two  cops." 

"That's  confounded  silly.  'Twould  have  been  better  to  see 
who  could  crow  the  loudest.     It's  the  loudest  cock  that  wins." 

"The  idea!  You'd  have  me  believe  you  mean  it.?  Sup- 
pose they  gave  the  prize  to  the  wrong  fellow  ? " 

"Whether  you  are  cheated  by  a  fool  of  a  preacher,  or  by  a 
scissors-grinder,  what's  the  difference?" 

Johannes  reflected  a  moment  and  wondered  if  it  would  not 
be  commendable  to  do  what  he  ached  to  do  —  fly  at  these 
people  and  rain  blows  upon  their  heads.  But  he  controlled 
himself  and  passed  on,  convinced  that  in  doing  so  he  was  es- 
caping some  hard  work. 

For  five  hours  he  walked  on  without  being  much  the  wiser 
for  his  inquiries.  Some  people  thought  they  had  seen  Markus; 
others  knew  positively  nothing  about  him. 

Johannes  began  to  fear  he  had  passed  him;  for  by  this  time 
he  ought  to  have  overtaken  him. 

It  began  to  grow  dark,  and  before  him  lay  a  wide  river 
which  he  must  cross  by  means  of  a  ferry-boat.  On  the  farther 
side  were  hills  covered  with  an  underwood  of  oak,  and  tall, 
purple-flowered  heather. 

The  ferryman  was  positive  that  he  had  not  that  day  taken 
over  a  scissors-grinder;  but  in  yonder  town,  an  hour's  distance 
from  the  river,  a  Fair  was  to  begin  in  the  morning.  Very 
likely  Markus  also  would  be  there. 

Johannes  sat  down  by  the  roadside  in  the  midst  of  the  dark 
broom,  with  its  millions  of  small  purple  flowers.  The  setting 
sun  cast  a  glorious  coloring  over  land  and  mist,  and  over  the 
lustrous,  flowing  water.  He  was  tired  but  not  depressed,  and 
he  ate  his  bread  contentedly,  certain  that  he  should  find  Markus. 


THEQUEST  221 

The  road  had  become  quiet  and  lonely.  It  was  fun  to  be  so 
free  —  so  alone  and  independent  —  at  home  in  the  open 
country.  Rather  than  anywhere  else  he  should  like  to  sleep 
out-of-doors  —  in  the  underwood. 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  lay  himself  down,  he  saw  the 
figure  of  a  man  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  cap 
pushed  back.  Johannes  sat  up,  and  waited  until  he  came 
closer.     Then  he  recognized  him. 

"Good  evening,  Director!"  said  Johannes. 

"Good  evening  to  you,  my  friend!"  returned  the  other. 
"What  are  you  doing  here?     Are  you  lost.?" 

"No;  I  am  looking  for  friends.     Is  Markus  with  you  ?" 

The  man  was  the  director  of  a  Flea-Theatre;  a  little  fellow, 
with  a  husky  voice,  and  eyes  inflamed  by  his  fine  work. 

"Markus?  I'm  not  sure.  But  come  along  —  there's  no 
knowing  but  he  might  be  there." 

"Are  you  looking  for  new  apprentices?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Do  you  happen  to  have  any?  They're  worth  a  pretty 
penny,  you  know!" 

They  walked  together  to  the  camp  of  gypsy  wagons,  near 
the  town.  Johannes  found  there  all  the  old  acquaintances. 
There  was  the  fat  lady,  who  could  rest  a  plate  upon  her  bosom 
and  thus  eat  out  of  it.  Now,  however,  she  was  eating  simply 
from  a  box,  like  the  others,  because  there  were  no  spectators. 
There  were  the  mother  and  daughter  who  represented  the 
living  mermaid,  taking  turns  because  one  could  not  hold  out 
very  long.  There  was  the  exhibitor  of  the  collection  of  curi- 
osities —  a  poor,  humpbacked  knave  whose  entire  possessions 
consisted  of  a  stuffed  alligator,  a  walrus-tooth,  and  a  seven- 
months  baby  preserved  in  alcohol.  There  were  the  two  wild 
men,  who,  growling  horribly,  could  eat  grass  and  live  rabbits, 
and  who  might  come  out  of  the  wagon  only  at  night,  when 
the  street  boys  were  away  ;  but  who,  far  from  savage  now, 
were  sitting  in  the  light  of  a  flickering  lantern,  "  shaving  " 
one  another  with   exceedingly   dirty  cards. 


222  THE    QUEST 

The  flea-tamer  brought  Johannes  at  last  to  Marjon's  wagon. 
"Bless  me!"  cried  Lorum,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  good 
humor  as  he  sat  by  the  road  smoking  his  pipe.  "Here  is  our 
runaway  young  gentleman  again!  Now  the  girls  will  be  glad!" 
From  behind  the  wagon  came  the  soft  tones  of  a  voice,  sing- 
ing to  a  zither  accompaniment.  Johannes  could  hear  the  song 
distinctly,  in  the  dreamlike  stillness  of  the  hour.  It  was  sung 
in  a  whining,  melancholy,  street-organ  style,  but  with  unusual 
emotion : 

"They  have  broken  my  heart  — 
Ah,  the  tears  I  have  shed! 
They  have  torn  us  apart  — 
His  dear  voice  is  now  dead. 
Alas!     Alas! 
How  could  you  forsake  me  ? 

Alas!     Alas! 
How  you  have  deceived  me!" 

It  was  a  ditty  that  Johannes  thought  he  had  often  heard  the 
nurse-maids  sing.  But,  because  he  recognized  that  dear  voice, 
and  perhaps  even  because  he  was  worried  over  the  applica- 
bility to  himself,  he  was  greatly  touched  by  it. 

"Hey,  there!"  cried  Lorum  to  one  behind  him.  "The  kid 
has  come  back!     Stop  your  squalling!" 

Then  Marjon  appeared  from  behind  the  wagon,  and  ran 
up  to  Johannes.  Also,  the  door  of  the  wagon  flew  back,  and 
Johannes  saw  Marjon's  sister  standing  in  the  bright  opening. 
Her  fat  arms  were  bare,  and  she  was  in  her  night-gown. 


XI 

Since  that  first  night  in  the  dunes  with  Windekind,  Johannes 
had  slept  many  a  time  in  the  open  air,  and  he  did  not  see 
why  he  should  not  now  do  so.  He  would  lie  down  under  the 
wagon,  upon  some  hay.  He  was  tired,  and  so  would  sleep 
well. 

But  sleep  did  not  come  to  him  very  promptly.  Adventures 
in  the  world  of  people  proved  to  be  even  more  exciting  than 
those  in  Windekind's  land  of  elves.  He  was  full  of  the  im- 
portant and  unusual  situation  in  which  he  was  placed;  the 
strange  human  life  that  surrounded  him  claimed  his  atten- 
tion. Above  him,  feet  were  shuffling  over  the  wagon  floor, 
and  he  could  see  the  people  crawling  around  one  another 
inside  the  warm,  dirty  wagons.  He  was  obliged  to  listen  to 
the  talking,  singing,  laughing  and  quarreling  that  frequently 
broke  out  here  and  there.  A  solitary  ocarina  continued  to 
whistle  awhile;  then  all  was  still. 

It  grew  cold.  He  had  with  him  only  a  thin  cloak  of  Aunt 
Serena's;  and,  as  a  horse-blanket  could  not  be  spared,  he  found 
a  couple  of  empty  oat-bags;  but  they  were  too  short. 

When  all  were  asleep,  and  he  was  still  lying  awake,  shiver- 
ing, his  spirits  already  inclined  to  droop,  he  heard  the  door 
of  the  wagon  open.  A  voice  called  him,  in  a  whisper.  Jo- 
hannes scrambled  out  into  sight,  and  recognized  Marjon's 
dark  sister. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in  here.  Kiddie?"  she  asked. 

The  truth  was  that  Johannes,  above  all  else,  feared  the 
closeness  and  the  fleas.  But  he  would  not  off"er  these  insulting 
reasons,  so  he  replied  —  intending  to  be  very  courteous  and 
praiseworthy:  "But  that  would  not  do  for  me  —  to  be  with 
you! 

Now,  formality  is  not  a  very  strong  point  in  a  house-wagon. 
In  the  very  stateliest,  a  curtain  does  indeed  sometimes  define 

223 


224  THEQUEST 

two  sleeping-rooms  at  night,  thus  denoting  regard  for  the  pro- 
prieties. But  in  most  cases  the  custom  is  to  do  as  do  the  birds 
which  change  their  suits  but  once  a  year,  and  not  too  much,  at 
that;  and  as  do  the  mice  which  also  have  no  separate  bedrooms. 

"Aw!  Come,  Boy!  You're  silly.  Just  come  on!  It's  all 
right." 

And  when  Johannes,  perplexed  and  very  bashful,  hesitated, 
he  felt  a  fat,  heavy  arm  around  his  neck,  and  a  soft,  broad, 
cold  mouth  upon  his  cheek. 

"Come  on.  Youngster!  Don't  be  afraid.  Surely  you  are 
not  so  green!     Hey.''     It's  time  for  me  to  make  you  wiser." 

Now  there  was  nothing  Johannes  had  learned  more  to  value 
than  wisdom,  and  he  never  willingly  neglected  a  chance  of  be- 
coming wiser.  But  this  time  there  came  to  him  a  very  clear 
idea  of  the  existence  of  an  undesirable  wisdom. 

He  had  no  time  to  deliberate  over  this  wonderful  discovery; 
for,  happily,  there  came  to  the  help  of  his  immature  thoughts 
a  very  strong  feeling  of  aversion,  so  that  for  once  he  knew 
betimes  what  he  ought  to  do. 

He  said  loudly,  and  firmly:  "I  will  not!  I  rest  better 
here."  And  he  crept  back  under  the  wagon.  The  swarthy 
jade  appeared  not  to  like  that,  for  she  uttered  an  oath  as  she 
turned  away,  and  said:  "Clear  out,  then!"  Johannes  did  not 
take  it  greatly  to  heart,  although  it  did  appear  to  him  un- 
fair. He  slept,  however,  no  more  than  before;  and  the  sen- 
sation of  the  recent  touches,  and  the  wretched  odor  of  poor 
perfumery  which  the  woman  had  brought  with  her,  remained 
with  him,  to  his  distress. 

As  soon  as  it  began  to  grow  light,  the  door  of  the  wagon  was 
again  opened.  Johannes,  surprised,  looked  up.  Marjon 
came  softly  out  in  her  bare  feet,  with  an  old  purple  shawl 
thrown  over  her  thin  little  shoulders.  She  went  up  to  Jo- 
hannes and  sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  him. 

"What  did  she  do?"  she  asked,  in  a  whisper. 

"Who.'"'  asked  Johannes,  in  return.  But  that  was  from 
embarrassment,  for  he  well  knew  whom  she  meant. 


THEQUEST  225 

"Now,  you  know  well  enough.  Did  you  think  I  was  sleep- 
ing ?     Did  she  give  you  a  kiss  ?" 

Johannes  nodded. 

"Where.''     On  your  mouth  .^" 

"No.     On  my  cheek." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Marjon.  "You  will  not  let  her  do  it 
again  .''     She  is  a  common  thing!" 

"I  could  not  help  it,"  said  Johannes. 

Marjon  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  a  few  moments,  with 
her  clear,  light  grey  eyes. 

"Do  you  dare  steal  ?"  she  asked  then,  abruptly. 

"No,"  said  Johannes.     "I  dare  to,  but  it's  wrong." 

"Indeed  it  isn't!"  said  Marjon,  very  emphatically.  "In- 
deed, it  is  not!  It's  only  a  question  of  who  from.  Stealing 
from  one  another  is  mean,  but  from  the  public  is  allowable.  I 
must  not  steal  from  that  woman  any  more  than  from  Lorum. 
But  you  may  steal  from  the  huzzy,  if  you  only  dared." 

"Then  can  you  steal  from  me,  too?"  asked  Johannes. 
Marjon  looked  at  him  in  sudden  surprise,  and  gave  a  pretty 
laugh,  showing  her  white,  even  teeth. 

"A  while  ago  I  could,  but  not  now.  Now  you  belong  to 
me.     But  that  woman  has  a  lot  of  money  and  you  have  not." 

"I  have  some  money,  too — fifty  guldens.  Aunt  Serena 
gave  it  to  me." 

Marjon  drew  in  the  air  with  her  lips  as  if  sipping  something 
delicious.     Her  pale  face  shone  with  pleasure. 

"Five  little  golden  Teners!  Is  it  truly  so  ?  But,  Johannes, 
then  we  are  well  off!  We'll  have  a  good  time  with  them. 
Shan't  we  ?" 

"To  be  sure,"  assented  Johannes,  recovering  himself. 
"But  I  want  to  find  Markus." 

"That's  good,"  said  Marjon.  "That's  the  best  thing  to  do. 
We'll  both  go  looking  for  him." 

"Right  away  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"No,  you  stupid!     We  should  be  nabbed  in  no  time.     We'll 


226  THEQUEST 

start  in  the  evening.     Then,  during  the  night,  we  can  get  a 
good  way  oft.     I'll  give  you  the  signal." 

It  was  morning  —  clear  and  cool,  yet  growing  warmer  with 
the  early  August  sunshine.  Ever}'^vhere  over  the  dark  heather 
the  dew-covered  cobwebs  were  shining  like  clusters  of  spark- 
ling stars.  The  fires  of  the  foregoing  evening  were  still  smoul- 
dering in  the  camp;  and  there  was  a  smell  of  wood  coals  and 
of  honey. 

Johannes  was  well  pleased.  There  was  a  glowing  little 
flame  also  within  himself.  He  felt  that  it  was  good  to  be  alive, 
and  a  joy  to  strive.  It  was  a  long,  strange  day,  but  he  was 
patient  and  happy  in  the  thought  of  fleeing  with  Marjon. 
The  dark  woman  was  friendly  toward  him  again.  He  was 
helping  her  in  the  circus  the  entire  day,  and  had  no  chance  to 
speak  with  Marjon.  But  now  and  then  they  gave  each  other 
a  look  full  of  complete  understanding.  That  was  delightful! 
Never  before  in  his  every-day  life  had  Johannes  experienced 
anything  so  delightful. 

That  evening  there  was  an  exhibition,  and  Marjon  per- 
formed her  tricks.  Johannes  felt  very  proud  and  important 
because  he  belonged  to  the  troupe,  and  was  looked  upon  by 
the  public  as  an  athlete  or  an  equestrian.  He  might  stand, 
in  topboots  and  with  a  whip,  at  the  entrance  to  the  stall,  but 
he  must  not  perform  a  single  trick,  nor  once  crack  his  whip. 

When  it  was  good  and  dark,  and  everybody  was  asleep 
again,  Marjon  came  to  summon  him.  He  could  scarcely 
distinguish  her  figure;  but  he  knew  by  a  soft,  grunting  sound, 
that  she  carried  Kees,  her  monkey,  on  her  arm.  She  thrust 
her  guitar  into  Johannes'  hand,  and  said  in  a  low  tone:  "Move 
on,  now!" 

They  set  out  hastily  and  in  silence,  Marjon  taking  the  lead. 
First  they  went  ,by  the  highway;  then  they  took  a  footpath 
along  the  river;  and  then,  at  a  ferry,  they  softly  unfastened  a 
small  boat,  and  pushed  out  into  the  current. 

"Keep  your  wits  about  you,  Jo,  and  be  on  the  lookout!" 


THEQUEST  227 

**We  shall  be  overtaken,"  said  Johannes,  not  quite  at  his 
ease. 

"Are  you  afraid  ?" 

"No,  not  afraid,"  said  Johannes,  although  the  truth  was 
that  he  was  trying  not  to  be;  "  but  where  are  we  going  to  bring 
up  ?  And  how  can  we  keep  out  of  the  way  if  a  boat  should 
come  along  ?     We  have  no  oars!" 

"  I  wish  a  boat  would  come.     Then  we'd  go  on  with  it." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go,  Marjon  ?" 

"Well,  over  the  frontier,  of  course.  Otherwise  they'll  catch 
us. 

"But  Markus!" 

"We'll  find  him,  by  and  by  —  only  come  on  now." 

In  silence  the  two  children  drifted  out  over  the  still,  black 
water,  which  here  and  there  bubbled  past  a  floating  log,  or  a 
barrel.  Everything  was  mysterious.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and 
th'ere  was  no  wind.  The  reeds,  even,  scarcely  sighed.  Keesje 
whined,  complainingly,  not  liking  the  cold. 

"  But  who  is  Markus,  Marjon  ?     Do  you  know  .'' " 

"You  must  not  ask  that,  Jo.     You  must  trust  him.     I  do." 

Then  they  heard  a  dull,  fitfully  throbbing  sound  that  slowly 
drew  nearer  from  the  distance,  and  Johannes  saw  red  and 
white  lanterns  ahead  of  them. 

"A  steamboat!"  he  cried.  "What  are  we  going  to  do 
now : 

"Sing!"  said  Marjon,  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

The  boat  came  very  gradually,  and  Johannes  saw  in  the 
rear  of  her  a  long  file  of  little  lights,  like  a  train  of  twinkling 
stars.  It  was  a  steam-tug  with  a  heavy  draught  of  Rhine- 
boats.  It  seemed  to  be  panting  and  toiling  with  its  burden, 
against  the  powerful  current. 

They  stayed  a  boat's  length  away  from  the  tug,  but  its  long, 
unwieldy  train  —  swinging  out  in  a  great  curve  at  the  rear  — 
came  nearer  and  nearer. 


228  THEQUEST 

Marjon  took  her  guitar  and  began  to  sing,  and  suddenly, 
with  the  sound  of  lapping  water  and  throbbing  engines,  the 
music  was  ringing  out  in  the  still  night  —  exquisite  and  clear. 
She  sang  a  well-known  German  air,  but  with  the  following 
words: 

"Tho'  on  dark  depths  of  waters 
I  fear  not  and  am  strong, 
For  I   know  who  will  guard  me 
And  guide  me  all  life  long." 

"Are  you  tipsy,  there,  or  tired  of  life?  What  do  you  put 
yourself  across  the  channel  for  —  and  without  a  light  ^  " 
rang  out  over  the  water  from  one  of  the  vessels. 

"Help!     Throw  a  line!"  cried  Marjon. 

"Help!  help!"  cried  Johannes,  after  her. 

Then  a  rope  came  wabbling  across  their  oarless  craft.  By 
good  luck  Johannes  caught  it,  and  pulled  himself,  hand  over 
hand,  up  to  the  vessel.  The  helmsman,  standing  beside  the 
great,  high-arched  rudder,  looked  overboard,  with  a  lantern 
in  his  hand. 

"What  wedding  do  you  hail  from  ?" 

Johannes  and  Marjon  climbed  into  the  boat  and  Marjon 
pushed  off  their  own  little  shallop. 

"Two  boys!"  exclaimed  the  helmsman. 

"And  a  monkey!"  subjoined  Marjon. 

Johannes  looked  round  at  her.  By  the  light  of  the  lantern 
he  saw  a  little  figure  that  he  hardly  recognized  —  a  slip  of  a 
boy  wearing  a  cap  on  his  closely  cropped  head.  She  had 
sacrificed  for  the  flight  her  silky  blonde  hair.  Keesje's  head 
was  sticking  up  out  of  her  jacket,  and  he  was  blinking  briskly 
in  the  glare  of  the  lantern. 

"Oh,  that's  it!  Fair-folk!"  grumbled  the  skipper.  "What's 
to  become  of  that  boat  ?" 

"It  knows  the  way  home!"  said  Marjon. 


XII 

I  WILL  simply  tell  you,  without  delay,  in  order  that  you  may 
be  able  to  read  what  follows  in  peace  of  mind,  that  Johannes 
and  Marjon  became  husband  and  wife  ere  the  ending  of  the 
story.  But  at  the  time  the  old  skipper  pointed  out  to  them  a 
comfortable  sleeping-corner  in  the  deck-house  of  the  long 
Rhine-boat,  they  had  not  the  least  idea  of  it.  Being  very 
tired,  they  were  soon  lying,  like  two  brothers,  in  deep  sleep, 
with  Keesje,  now  warm  and  contented,  between  them. 

When  it  grew  light,  the  whole  world  seemed  to  have  vanished. 
Johannes  had  been  wakened  by  the  rattling  of  the  anchor- 
chains,  and  when  he  looked  out,  he  saw  on  all  sides  nothing 
but  white,  foggy  light;  no  sky,  no  shore  —  only,  just  under  the 
little  windows,  the  yellow  river  current.  But  he  heard  the 
striking  of  the  town  clocks,  and  even  the  crowing  of  cocks. 
Therefore  the  world  was  still  there,  as  fine  as  ever,  only  hidden 
away  under  a  thick  white  veil. 

The  boats  lay  still,  for  they  could  not  be  navigated.  So 
long  as  the  waters  of  the  Rhine  could  not  be  seen  frothing 
about  the  anchor-chains,  so  long  must  they  wait  for  a  chance 
to  know  the  points  of  the  compass.  Thus  they  remained  for 
hours  in  the  still,  thick  white  light,  listening  to  the  muffled 
sounds  of  the  town  coming  from  the  shore. 

The  two  children  ran  back  and  forth  over  the  long,  long 
vessel,  and  had  a  fine  time.  They  had  already  become  good 
friends  of  the  skipper,  especially  since  he  had  learned  that  they 
could  pay  for  their  passage.  They  ate  their  bread  and  sausage, 
peering  into  the  fog  in  suspense,  for  fear  that  Lorum  and  the 
dark  woman  might  be  coming  in  a  boat  to  overtake  them. 
They  knew  that  they  could  not  yet  be  very  far  away  from  their 
last  camping-place. 

At  last  the  mists  grew  thinner  and  thinner,  and  fled  from 
before  the  shining  face  of  the  sun;  and,  although  the  earth  still 

229 


230  THEQUEST 

remained  hidden  beneath  swirhng  white,  up  above  began  to 
appear  the  glorious  blue. 

And  this  was  the  beginning  of  a  fine  day  for  Johannes. 

Sighing  and  groaning,  as  if  with  great  reluctance,  the  tug- 
boat began  again  its  toilful  course  up  the  stream.  The  still, 
summer  day  was  warm,  the  wide  expanse  of  water  sparkled 
in  the  sun,  and  on  both  sides  the  shores  were  gliding  gently 
by  — -  their  grey-green  reeds,  and  willows  and  poplars,  all  fresh 
and  dewy,  peeping  through  the  fog. 

Johannes  lay  on  the  deck,  gazing  at  land  and  water,  while 
Marjon  sat  beside  him.  Keesje  amused  himself  with  the 
tackle  rope,  chuckling  with  satisfaction  every  now  and  then, 
as  he  sprang  back  and  forth,  with  a  serious  look,  after  a  flitting 
bird  or  insect. 

"Marjon,"  said  Johannes,  "how  did  you  know  so  certainly 
yesterday  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  oH" 

"Some  one  watches  over  me,"  said  Marjon. 

"Who?"   asked   Johannes. 

"Father." 

Johannes  looked  at  her,  and  asked,  softly: 

"Do  you  mean  your  own  father?" 

But  Marjon  made  a  slight  movement  of  her  head  toward 
the  green  earth,  the  flowing  water,  the  blue  sky  and  the  sun- 
shine, and  said,  with  peculiar  significance,  as  if  now  it  was 
quite  clear  to  her: 

"No!     I  mean  The  Father." 

"The  Father  Markus  speaks  about?" 

"Yes,     Of  course,"  said  Marjon. 

Johannes  was  silent  a  while,  gazing  at  the  rapid  flow  of  the 
water,  and  the  slower  and  slower  course  of  things  according 
to  their  distance  in  the  rear.  His  head  was  full  of  ideas,  each 
one  eager  for  utterance.  But  it  is  delightful  to  lie  thus  and  view 
a  passing  country  spread  out  under  the  clear  light  —  letting  the 
thoughts  come  very  calmly,  and  selecting  carefully  those  worthy 
of  being  clad  in  speech.  Many  are  too  tender  and  sensitive  to 
be  accorded  that  honor,  but  yet  they  may  not  be  meanest  ones. 


THE    QUEST  231 

Johannes  first  selected  a  stray  thought. 

"Is  that  your  own  idea  ?"  he  asked.  Marjon  was  not  quick 
with  an  answer,  herself,  this  time. 

"My  own  ?  No.  Markus  told  me  it.  But  I  knew  it  my- 
self, though.  I  knew  it,  but  he  said  it.  He  drew  it  out  of  me. 
I  remember  everything  he  says  —  everything  —  even  although 
I  don't  catch  on." 

"Is  there  any  good  in  that  V'  asked  Johannes,  thoughtlessly. 

Marjon  looked  at  him  disdainfully,  and  said: 

"  Jimminy!  You're  just  like  Kees.  He  doesn't  know  either 
that  he  can  do  more  with  a  quarter  than  with  a  cent.  When  I 
got  my  first  quarter,  I  didn't  catch  on,  either,  but  then  I  noticed 
that  I  could  get  a  lot  more  candy  with  it  than  with  a  cent. 
Then  I  knew  better  what  to  do.  So  now  I  treasure  the  things 
Markus  has  said  —  all  of  them." 

"  Do  you  think  as  much  of  him  as  I  do  ^ "  asked  Johannes. 

"More,"  said  Marjon. 

"That  cannot  be." 

Then  there  was  another  long  pause.  The  boat  was  not  in  a 
hurry,  neither  was  the  sun,  and  the  broad  stream  made  even 
less  haste.  And  so  the  children,  as  well,  took  plenty  of  time 
in  their  talking. 

"Yes,  but  you  see,"  Johannes  began  again,  "when  people 
speak  of  our  Father,  they  mean  God,  and  God  is   .    .    ." 

What  was  it  again,  that  Windekind  had  said  about  God  ? 
The  thought  came  to  him,  and  clothed  in  the  old  terms.  But 
Johannes  hesitated.     The  terms  were  surely  not  attractive. 

"What  is  God,  now?"  asked  Marjon. 

The  old  jargon  must  be  used.     There  was  nothing  better. 

"...  An  oil-lamp,  where  the  flies  stick  fast." 

Marjon  whistled  —  a  shrill  whistle  of  authority  —  a  circus- 
command.  Keesje,  who  was  sitting  on  the  foremast,  thought- 
fully inspecting  his  outstretched  hind  foot,  started  up  at  once, 
and  came  sliding  down  the  steel  cable,  in  dutiful  haste. 

"Here,  Kees!     Attention!" 

Kees  grumbled  assent,  and  was  instantly  on  the  alert,  for 


232  THEQUEST 

he   was   well    drilled.     His   sharp    little   brown   eyes   scarcely 
strayed  for  one  second  away  from  the  face  of  his  mistress. 

"The  young  gentleman  here  says  he  knows  what  God  is. 
Do  you  know  ?" 

Keesje  shook  his  head  quickly,  showing  all  his  sharp  little 
white  teeth  in  a  grin.  One  would  have  said  he  was  laughing, 
but  his  small  eyes  peered  as  seriously  as  ever  from  Marjon's 
mouth  to  her  hand.  There  was  nothing  to  laugh  at.  He 
must  pay  attention.  That  was  clear.  Goodies  were  bound 
to  follow  —  or  blows. 

But  Marjon  laughed  loudly. 
"Here,  Kees!     Good  Kees!" 

And  then  he  had  the  dainties,  and  soon  was  up  on  the  mast, 
smacking  aloud  as  he  feasted. 

The  result  of  this  affront  was  quite  unexpected  to  Marjon. 
Johannes,  who  had  been  lying  prone  on  the  deck,  with  his  chin 
in  his  hands,  gazed  sadly  for  a  while  at  the  horizon,  and  then 
hid  his  face  in  his  folded  arms,  his  body  shaking  with  sobs. 

"Stop  now,  Jo;  you're  silly!  Cry  for  that!"  said  Marjon, 
half  frightened,  trying  to  pull  his  arms  away  from  his  face. 
But  Johannes  shook  his  head. 

"Hush!     Let  me  think,"  said  he. 

Marjon  gave  him  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then  she 
spoke,  gently  and  kindly,  as  if  to  comfort  him: 

"I   know  what  you  wanted  to  say,  dear  Jo.     That's  the 
reason,  too,  why  I  always  speak  of  The  Father.    I  understand 
that  the  best;  because,  you  see,  I  never  knew  my  earthly  father, 
but  he  must  have  been  much  better  than  other  fathers. 
"Why.?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Because  I  am  much  better  than  all  those  people  round 
about  me,  and  better  than  that  common,  dark  woman  who  had 
another  father." 

Marjon  said  this  quite  simply,  thinking  it  to  be  so.  She 
said  it  in  a  modest  manner,  while  feeling  that  it  was  something 
which  ought  to  be  spoken. 

"Not  that  I  have  been  so  very  good.     Oh,  no!     But  yet  I 


THE    QUEST  233 

have  been  better  than  the  others,  and  that  was  because  of  the 
father;  for  my  mother,  too,  was  only  a  member  of  a  troupe. 
And  now  it  is  so  lovely  that  I  can  say  'Father'  just  as  Markus 
does!" 

Johannes  looked  at  her,  with  the  sadness  still  in  his  eyes, 

"Yes,  but  all  the  meanness,  the  ugliness,  and  the  sorrow  that 
our  Father  permits!  First,  He  launches  us  into  the  world, 
helpless  and  ignorant,  without  telling  us  anything.  And  then, 
when  we  do  wrong  because  we  know  no  better,  we  are  punished. 
Is  that  fatherly?" 

But  Marjon  said: 

"Did  you  fancy  it  was  not  ?  Kees  gets  punished,  too,  so  he 
will  learn.  And  now  that  he  is  clever  and  well  taught  he  gets 
hardly  any  blows  —  only  tid-bits.     Isn't  that  so,  Kees?" 

"But,  Marjon,  did  you  not  tell  me  how  you  found  Kees — • 
shy,  thin,  and  mangy  —  his  coat  all  spoiled  with  hunger  and 
beatings;  and  how  he  has  remained  timid  ever  since,  because 
a  couple  of  rascally  boys  had  mistreated  him  ?" 

Marjon  nodded,  and  said: 

"There  are  rascals,  and  deucedly  wicked  boys,  and  very 
likely  there  is  a  Devil,  also;  but  I  am  my  Father's  child  and  not 
afraid  of  Him,  nor  what  He  may  do  with  me." 

"But  if  He  makes  you  ill,  and  lets  you  be  ill-treated  ?  If 
He  lets  you  do  wrong,  and  then  leaves  you  to  cry  about  it  ? 
And  if  He  makes  you  foolish  ?" 

Keesje  was  coming  down  from  the  mast,  very  softly  and 
deliberately.  With  his  black,  dirty  little  hands  he  cautiously 
and  hesitatingly  touched  the  boy's  clothes  that  Marjon  was 
wearing.  He  wanted  to  go  to  sleep,  and  had  been  used  to  a 
soft  lap.  But  his  mistress  took  him  up,  and  hid  him  in  her 
jacket.  Then  he  yawned  contentedly,  like  a  little  old  man, 
and  closed  his  pale  eyelids  in  sleep  —  his  little  face  looking  very 
pious  with  its  eyebrows  raised  in  a  saintly  arch.  Marjon 
said: 

"If  I  should  go  and  ill-treat  Keesje,  he  would  make  a  great 
fuss  about  it,  but  still  he  would  stay  with  me." 


234  THE    QUEST 

"Yes;  but  he  would  do  the  same  with  a  common  tramp," 
said  Johannes. 

Marjon  shook  her  head,  doubtfully. 

"Kees  is  rather  stupid  —  much  more  so  than  you  or  I,  but 
yet  not  altogether  stupid.  He  well  knows  who  means  to  treat 
him  rightly.  He  knows  well  that  I  do  not  ill-treat  him  for 
my  own  pleasure.  And  you  see,  Jo,  I  know  certainly,  ever  so 
certainly  —  that  my  Father  will  not  ill-treat  me  without  a 
reason." 

Johannes  pressed  her  hand,  and  asked  passionately: 

"How  do  you  know  that  .^     How  do  you  know  ?" 

Marjon  smiled,  and  gave  him  a  gentle  look. 

"Exactly  as  I  know  you  to  be  a  good  boy  —  one  who  does 
not  lie.  I  can  tell  that  about  you  in  various  ways  I  could  not 
explain  —  by  one  thing  and  another.  So,  too,  I  can  see  that 
my  Father  means  well  by  me.  By  the  flowers,  the  clouds,  the 
sparkling  water.     Sometimes  it  makes  me  cry  —  it  is  so  plain." 

Then  Johannes  remembered  how  he  had  once  been  taught 
to  pray,  and  his  troubled  thoughts  grew  calmer.  Yet  he  could 
not  refrain  from  asking  —  because  he  had  been  so  much  with 
Pluizer: 

"Why  might  not  that  be  a  cheat  ?" 

Suddenly  Keesje  waked  up  and  looked  behind  him  at 
Johannes,  in  a  frightened  way. 

"Ah,  there  you  are!"  exclaimed  Marjon,  impatiently. 
"That's  exactly  as  if  you  asked  why  the  summer  might  not 
perchance  be  the  winter.  You  can  ask  that,  any  time.  I 
know  my  Father  just  for  the  very  reason  that  He  does  not  de- 
ceive.    If  Markus  was  only  here  he  would  give  it  to  you ! " 

"Yes,  if  he  was  only  here!"  repeated  Johannes,  not  appear- 
ing to  be  afraid  of  what  Markus  might  do  to  him. 

Then  in  a  milder  way,  Marjon  proceeded: 

"Do  you  know  what  Markus  says,  Jo  .^  When  the  Devil 
stands  before  God,  his  heart  is  pierced  by  genuine  trust." 

"Should  I  trust  the  Devil,  then  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Well,   no!     How  could  that   be?     Nobody  can   do  that. 


THEQUEST  235 

You  must  trust  the  Father  alone.  But  even  if  you  are  so  un- 
lucky as  to  see  the  Devil  before  you  see  the  Father,  that  makes 
no  difference,  for  he  has  no  chance  against  sincere  trust.  That 
upsets  his  plans,  and  at  the  same  time  pleases  the  Father." 

"Oh,  Marjon!  Marjon!"  said  Johannes,  clasping  his 
hands  together  in  his  deep  emotion.  She  smiled  brightly  and 
said: 

"Now  you  see  that  was  a  quarter  out  of  my  savings-box!" 

Really,  it  was  a  very  happy  day  for  Johannes.  He  saw  great, 
white,  piled-up  clouds,  tall  trees  in  the  light  of  the  rising  sun, 
still  houses  on  the  river-banks,  and  the  rushing  stream  — 
with  violet  and  gold  sparkling  in  the  broad  bends  —  ever  flow- 
ing through  a  fruitful,  verdant  country;  and  over  all,  the  deep, 
deep  blue  —  and  he  whispered:  "Father  —  Father!"  In  an 
instant,  he  suddenly  comprehended  all  the  things  he  saw  as 
splendid,  glorious  Thoughts  of  the  Father,  which  had  always 
been  his  to  observe,  but  only  now  to  be  wholly  understood. 
The  Father  said  all  this  to  him,  as  a  solemn  admonition  that 
He  it  was  —  pure  and  true,  eternally  guarding,  ever  waiting 
and  accessible,  behind  the  unlovely  and  the  deceitful. 

"Will  you  always  stay  with  me,  Marjon?"  he  asked 
earnestly. 

"Yes,  Jo,  that  I  will.     And  you  with  me  ?" 

Then  Little  Johannes  intrepidly  gave  his  promise,  as  if 
he  really  knew  what  the  future  held  for  him,  and  as  if  he  had 
power  over  his  entire  unknown  existence. 

"Yes,  dear  Marjon,  I  will  never  leave  you  again.  I  promise 
you.  We  remain  together,  but  as  friends.  Do  you  agree  ? 
No  foolishness!" 

"Very  well,  Jo.  As  you  like,"  said  Marjon.  After  that 
they  were  very  still. 


XIII 

It  was  evening,  and  they  were  nearing  Germany,  The  dwell- 
ings on  the  river-hanks  no  longer  looked  fresh  and  bright 
colored,  but  faded  and  dirty.  Then  they  came  to  a  poor, 
shabby-looking  town,  with  rusty  walls,  and  grey  houses  in- 
scribed with  flourishing  black  letters. 

The  boats  went  up  the  stream  to  lie  at  anchor,  and  the 
custom-house  officers  came.  Then  Marjon,  rousing  up  from 
the  brown  study  into  which  Johannes'  last  question  had 
plunged  her,  said: 

"We  must  sing  something,  Jo.  Only  think!  Your  Aunt's 
money  will  soon  be  gone.     We  must  earn  some  more." 

"  Can  we  do  it  ? "  asked  Johannes. 

"Easy.  You  just  furnish  the  words  and  I'll  take  care  of  the 
music.  If  it  isn't  so  fine  at  first,  that  doesn't  matter.  You'll 
see  how  the  money  rains  down,  even  if  they  don't  understand 
a  thing." 

Marjon  knew  her  public.  It  came  out  as  she  said  it  would. 
When  they  began  to  sing,  the  brusque  customs  collectors,  the 
old  skipper,  and  other  ships'  folk  in  the  boats  lying  next  them, 
all  listened;  and  the  stokers  of  the  little  tugboat  stuck  their 
soot-begrimed  faces  out  of  the  machine-room  hatch,  and  they, 
also,  listened.  For  those  two  young  voices  floated  softly  and 
harmoniously  out  over  the  calmly  flowing  current,  and  there 
was  something  very  winning  in  the  two  slender  brothers  — 
something  fine  and  striking.  They  were  quite  unlike  the 
usual  circus-people.  There  was  something  about  them 
which  instantly  made  itself  felt,  even  upon  a  rude  audience, 
although  no  one  there  could  tell  in  what  it  consisted,  nor 
understand  what  they  were  singing  about,  nor  even  the 
words. 

At  first  they  sang  their  old  songs  —  The  Song  of  the  Butter- 
fly, and  the  melancholy  song  that  Marjon  had  made  alone, 

236 


THEQUEST  237 

and  which  Johannes,  rather  disdainfully,  had  named  The 
Nurse-Maid's  Song,  and  also  the  one  Marjon  had  composed 
in  the  evening,  in  the  hoat.  But  when  Marjon  said,  "You 
must  make  something  new,"  Johannes  looked  very  serious, 
and  said: 

"You  cannot  make  verses  —  they  are  born  as  much  as 
children  are." 

Marjon  blushed;  and,  laughing  in  her  confusion,  she  re- 
plied: "What  silly  things  you  do  say,  Jo.  It's  well  that  the 
dark  woman  doesn't  hear  you.  She  might  take  you  in 
hand." 

After  a  moment  of  silence,  she  resumed:  "I  believe  you  talk 
trash,  Jo.  When  I  make  songs  the  music  does  come  of  itself; 
but  I  have  to  finish  it  off,  though.  I  must  t7jake  —  compose, 
you  know.  It's  exactly,"  she  continued,  after  a  pause,  as  if 
a  troop  of  children  came  in,  all  unexpected  —  wild  and  in 
disorder,  and  as  if,  like  a  school-teacher,  I  made  them  pass  in 
a  procession  —  two  by  two  —  and  stroked  their  clothing 
smooth,  and  put  flowers  in  their  hands,  and  then  set  them 
marching.  That's  the  way  I  make  songs,  and  so  must  you 
make  verses.     Try  now!" 

"Exactly,"  said  Johannes; '"but  yet  the  children  must  first 
come  of  themselves." 

"But  are  they  not  all  there,  Jo  ?" 

Gazing  up  into  the  great  dome  of  the  evening  sky,  where 
the  pale  stars  were  just  beginning  to  sparkle,  Johannes  thought 
it  over.  He  thought  of  the  fine  day  he  had  had,  and  also  of 
what  he  had  felt  coming  into  his  head. 

"Really,"  said  Marjon,  rather  drily,  "you'll  just  have  to, 
whether  you  want  to  or  not  —  to  keep  from  starving." 

Then,  as  if  desperately  alarmed,  Johannes  went  in  search 
of  pencil  and  paper;  and  truly,  in  came  the  disorderly  chil- 
dren, and  he  arranged  them  in  file,  prinked  them  up,  and 
dealt  them  out  flowers. 


238  THEOUEST 

He  first  wrote  this: 

"Tell  me  what  means  the  bright  sunshine, 
The  great  and  restless  river  Rhine, 

This  teeming  land  of  flocks  and  herds  — 
The  high,  wide  blue  of  summer  sky, 
Where  fleecy  clouds  in  quiet  lie.  • 

To  catch  the  lilt  of  happy  birds. 

"The  Father  thinks,  and  spreads  his  dream 
As  sun  and  heaven,  field  and  stream. 

I  feast  on  his  creation  — 
And  when  that  thought  is  understood. 
Then  shall  my  soul  confess  Him  good, 

And  kneel  in  adoration." 

Marjon  read  it,  and  slowly  remarked,  as  she  nodded:  "Very 
well,  Jo,  but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  make  a  song  of  it.  At  least,  not 
now.  I  must  have  something  with  more  life  and  movement  in 
it.  This  is  too  sober  —  I  must  have  something  that  dances. 
Can't  you  say  something  about  the  stars  ?  I  just  love  them 
so!     Or  about  the  river,  or  the  sun,  or  about  the  autumn  .f"* 

"I  will  try  to,"  said  Johannes,  looking  up  at  the  twinkling 
dots  sprinkled  over  the  dark  night-sky. 

Then  he  composed  the  following  song,  for  which  Marjon 
quickly  furnished  a  melody,  and  soon  they  were  both  singing: 

"One  by  one  from  their  sable  fold 

Came  the  silent  stars  with  twinkling  eyes, 
And  their  tiny  feet  illumed  like  gold 
The  adamantine  skies. 

"And  when  they'd  climbed  the  domed  height  — • 
So  happy  and  full  of  glee, 
There  sang  those  stars  with  all  their  might 
A  song  of  jubilee." 


THE    QUEST 


239 


It  was  a  success.  Their  fresh  young  voices  were  floating 
and  ghding  and  intertwining  hke  two  bright  garlands,  or 
two  supple  fishes  sporting  in  clear  water,  or  two  butterflies 
fluttering  about  each  other  in  the  sunshine.  The  brown  old 
skipper  grinned,  and  the  grimy-faced  stokers  looked  at  them 
approvingly.  They  did  not  understand  it,  but  felt  sure  it  must 
be  a  merry  love-song.  Three  times  —  four  times  through  — 
the  children  sang  the  song.  Then,  little  by  little,  the  night 
fell.  But  Johannes  had  still  more  to  say.  The  sun,  and  the 
splendid  summer  day  that  had  now  taken  its  leave,  had  left 
behind  a  sweet,  sad  longing,  and  this  he  wanted  to  put  upon 
paper.  Lying  stretched  out  on  the  deck,  he  wrote  the  follow- 
ing, by  the  light  of  the  lantern: 

"Oh,   golden   sun  —  oh,   summer  light, 
I  would  that  I  miffht  see  thee  bright 

Thro'  long,  drear,  winter  days! 
Thy  brightest  rays  have  all  been  shed  — 
Full  soon  thy  glory  will  have  fled, 
And  cold  winds  blow; 
While  all  dear,  verdant  ways 
Lie  deep  in  snow." 

As  he  read  the  last  line  aloud,  his  voice  was  full  of  emotion. 

"That's  fine,  Jo!"  said  Marjon.     "I'll  soon  have  it  ready." 

And  after  a  half-hour  of  trying  and  testing,  she  found  for 
the  verses  a  sweet  air,  full  of  yearning. 

And  they  sang  it,  in  the  dusk,  and  repeated  the  former  one, 
until  a  troupe  of  street  musicians  of  the  sort  called  "tooters" 
came  boisterously  out  of  a  beer-house  on  the  shore,  and 
drowned  their  tender  voices  with  a  flood  of  loud,  dissonant,  and 
brazen  tones. 

"Mum,  now,"  said  Marjon,  "we  can't  do  anything  against 
that  braying.  But  never  mind.  We  have  two  of  them  now 
—  The  Star  Song  and  The  /Autumn  Song.  At  this  rate  we 
shall  get  rich.     And  I'll  make  something  yet  out  of  The  Father 


240  THEQUEST 

Song;  but  in  the  morning,  I  think  —  not  to-night.  We've 
earned  at  least  our  day's  wages,  and  we  can  go  on  a  lark  with 
contented  minds.     Will  you  go,  Jo.-*" 

"Marjon,"  said  Johannes,  musingly,  hesitating  an  instant 
before  he  consented,  "do  you  know  who  Pluizer  is  V 

"No!"  said  Marjon,  bluntly. 

"Do  you  know  what  he  would  say  V 

"Well?"  asked  Marjon,  with  indifference. 

"That  you  are  altogether  impossible." 

"Impossible?     Why?" 

"Because  you  cannot  exist,  he  would  say.  Such  beings  do 
not  and  cannot  exist." 

"Oh,  he  must  surely  mean  that  I  ought  only  to  steal  and 
swear  and  drink  gin.  Is  that  it  ?  Because  I'm  a  circus-girl, 
hey  ?" 

"Yes,  he  would  say  something  like  that.  And  he  would 
also  call  this  about  the  Father  nothing  but  rot.  He  says  the 
clouds  are  only  wetness,  and  the  sunshine  quiverings,  and 
nothing  else  ;  that  they  could  be  the  expression  of  anything  is 
humbug." 

"Then  he  would  surely  say  that,  too,  of  a  book  of  music  ?" 
asked  Marjon. 

"That  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Johannes,  "but  he  does  say 
that  light  and  darkness  are  exactly  the  same  thing." 

"Oh!  Then  I  know  him  very  well.  Doesn't  he  say,  also, 
that  it's  the  same  thing  if  you  stand  on  your  head  or  on  your 
heels  ? " 

"Exactly  —  that  is  he,"  said  Johannes,  delighted.  "What 
have  you  to  say  about  it  ?" 

"That  for  all  I  care  he  can  stay  standing  on  his  head;  and 
more,  too,  he  can  choke!" 

"Is  that  enough?"  asked  Johannes,  somewhat  doubt- 
fully. 

"Certainly,"  said  Marjon,  very  positively.  "Should  I  have 
to  tell  him  that  daytimes  it  is  light,  and  night-times  it  is 
dark  ?     But  what  put  you  in  mind  of  that  Jackanapes  ?" 


THEQUEST  241 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Johannes.  "I  think  it  was  those 
tooters." 

Then  they  went  into  the  deck-house  where  Keesje  was 
already  lying  on  the  broad,  leather-cushioned  settee,  all  rolled 
up  in  a  little  ball,  and  softly  snoring;  and  this  cabin  served  the 
two  children  as  a  lodging-house. 


XIV 

On  the  second  day  they  came  to  the  great  cathedral  which, 
fortunately,  was  then  not  yet  complete,  and  made  Johannes 
think  of  a  magnificent,  scrag-covered  cliff.  And  when  he 
heard  that  it  was  really  going  to  be  completed,  up  to  the  highest 
spire,  he  was  filled  with  respect  for  those  daring  builders  and 
their  noble  creation.  He  did  not  yet  know  that  it  is  often 
better  to  let  beautiful  conceptions  rest,  for  the  reason  that, 
upon  earth,  consummated  works  are  sometimes  really  less  fine 
and  striking  than  incomplete  projects. 

And  when  at  last,  on  the  third  evening,  be  found  himself 
among  the  mountains,  he  was  in  raptures.  It  was  a  jovial 
world.  Moving,  over  the  Rhine  in  every  direction  were 
brightly  lighted  steamboats  laden  with  happy  people,  feast- 
ing and  singing.  Between  the  dark,  vine-covered  mountains 
the  river  reflected  the  rosy,  evening  light.  Music  rang  on  the 
water;  music  came  from  both  banks.  People  were  sitting 
on  terraces,  under  leafy  bowers,  around  pretty,  shining 
lamps  —  drinking  gold-colored  wine  out  of  green  goblets; 
and  the  clinking  of  glasses  and  sound  of  loud  laughter  came 
from  the  banks.  And,  singing  as  they  stepped,  down  the 
mountains  came  others,  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  carrying 
their  jackets  on  alpenstocks  over  their  shoulders.  The 
evening  sky  was  aflame  in  the  west,  and  the  vineyard  foliage 
and  the  porphyry  rocks  reflected  the  glowing  red.  Hurrah! 
One  ought  to  be  happy  here.  Truly,  it  seemed  a  jolly  way 
of  living. 

Johannes  and  Marjon  bade  their  long  ark  farewell,  and  went 
ashore.  It  saddened  Johannes  to  leave  the  dear  boat,  for  he 
was  still  a  sentimental  little  fellow,  who  promptly  attached 
himself  by  delicate  tendrils  to  that  which  gave  him  happiness. 
And  so  the  parting  was  painful. 

They  now  began  the  work  of  earning  their  livelihood.     And 

242 


THE    QUEST  243 

Keesjc's  idle  days  were  over,  as  well.  They  put  his  little  red 
jacket  upon  him,  and  he  had  to  climb  trees,  and  pull  up 
pennies  in  a  basin. 

And  the  children  had  to  sing  their  songs  until  they  lost  their 
charm,  and  Johannes  grew  weary  enough  with  them. 

But  they  earned  more  —  much  more  than  Markus  with  his 
scissors-grinding.  The  big,  heavily  moustached,  and  whis- 
kered gentlemen,  the  prettily  dressed  and  perfumed  ladies, 
sitting  on  the  hotel  terraces,  looked  at  them  with  intolerable 
arrogance,  saying  all  kinds  of  jesting  things  —  things  which 
Johannes  only  half  understood,  but  at  which  they  themselves 
laughed  loudly.  But  in  the  end  they  almost  all  gave  —  some 
copper,  some  silver  —  until  the  frised  waiters,  in  their  black 
coats  and  white  shirt-fronts,  crossly  drove  them  away,  fearing 
that  their  own  fees  might  be  diminished. 

Marjon  it  was  who  dictated  the  next  move,  who  was  never 
at  a  loss,  who  dared  the  waiters  with  witty  speeches,  and  always 
furnished  advice.  And  when  they  had  been  singing  rather 
too  much,  she  began  twirling  and  balancing  plates.  She  spoke 
the  strange  tongue  with  perfect  fluency,  and  she  also  looked 
for  their  night's  resting-place. 

The  public  —  the  stupid,  proud,  self-satisfied  people  who 
seemed  to  think  only  of  their  pleasure  —  did  not  wound  Marjon 
so  much  as  they  did  Johannes. 

When  their  snobbishness  and  rudeness  brought  tears  to  his 
eyes,  or  when  he  was  hurt  on  account  of  their  silly  jests, 
Marjon  only  laughed. 

"But  do  not  you  care,  Marjon.?"  asked  Johannes,  indig- 
nantly.    "  Does  it  not  annoy  you  that  they,  every  one  of  them, 
seem  to  think  themselves  so  much  finer,  more  important,  and' 
fortunate  beings  than  you  and  I,  when,  instead,  they  are  so 
stupid  and  ugly  .?" 

And  he  thought  of  the  people  Wistik  had  shown  him. 

"Well,  but  what  of  it?"  said  Marjon,  merrily.  "We  get 
our  living  out  of  them.      If  they  only  give,  I  don't  care  a  rap. 


244  THEQUEST 

Kees  is  much  uglier,  and  you  laugh  about  it  as  much  as  I  do. 
Then  why  don't  you  laugh  at  the  snobs  ?  " 

Johannes  meditated  a  long  time,  and  then  replied: 

"Keesje  never  makes  me  angry;  but  sometimes,  when  he 
looks  awfully  like  a  man,  then  I  have  to  cry  over  him,  because 
he  is  such  a  poor,  dirty  little  fellow.  But  those  people  make 
me  angry  because  they  fancy  themselves  to  be  so  much." 

Marjon  looked  at  him  very  earnestly,  and  said: 

"What  a  good  boy  you  are!  As  to  the  people  —  the 
public  —  why,  I've  always  been  taught  to  get  as  much  out  of 
'em  as  I  could.  I  don't  care  for  them  so  much  as  I  care  for 
their  money.  I  make  fun  of  them.  But  you  do  not,  and 
that's  why  you're  better.     That's  why  I  like  you." 

And  she  pressed  her  fair  head,  with  its  glossy,  short-cut  hair, 
closer  against  his  shoulder,  thinking  a  little  seriously  about 
those  hard  words,  "no  foolishness." 

They  were  happy  days  —  that  free  life,  the  fun  of  earning 
the  pennies,  and  the  beautiful,  late-summer  weather  amid  the 
mountains.  But  the  nights  were  less  happy.  Oh!  what 
damp,  dirty  rooms  and  beds  they  had  to  use,  because  Fair- 
people  could  not,  for  even  once,  afford  to  have  anything  better. 
They  were  so  rank  with  onions,  and  frying  fat,  and  things  even 
worse!  On  the  walls,  near  the  pillows,  were  suspicious  stains; 
and  the  thick  bed-covers  were  so  damp,  and  warm,  and  much 
used!  Also,  without  actual  reason  for  it,  but  merely  from 
imagination,  Johannes  felt  creepy  all  over  w^hen  their  resting- 
place  was  recommended  to  them,  with  exaggerated  praise,  as 
a  "very  tidy  room." 

Marjon  took  all  this  much  more  calmly,  and  always  fell 
asleep  in  no  time,  while  Johannes  sometimes  lay  awake  for 
hours,  restless  and  shrinking  because  of  the  uncleanliness. 

"It's  nothing,  if  only  you  don't  think  about  it,"  said  Marjon, 
"and  these  people  always  live  in  this  way." 

And  what  astonished  Johannes  still  more  in  Marjon  was 
that  she  dared  to  step  up  so  pluckily  to  the  German  function- 
aries, constables,  officers,  and  self-conceited  citizens. 


THEQUEST  245 

It  is  fair  to  say  that  Johannes  was  afraid  of  such  people. 
A  railway  official  with  a  gruft',  surly  voice;  a  policeman  with 
his  absolutely  inexorable  manner;  a  pufFed-out,  strutting  pea- 
cock of  an  officer,  looking  down  upon  the  world  about  him, 
right  and  left;  a  red-faced,  self-asserting  man,  with  his  mous- 
tache trained  up  high,  and  with  ring-covered  fingers,  calling 
vociferously  for  champagne,  and  appearing  very  much  satis- 
fied with  himself,  —  all  these  Marjon  delighted  to  ridicule, 
but  Johannes  felt  a  secret  dread  of  them.  He  was  as  much 
afraid  of  all  these  beings  as  of  strange,  wild  animals;  and  he 
could  not  understand  Marjon's  calm  impudence  toward  them. 

Once,  when  a  policeman  asked  about  their  passport,  Jo- 
hannes felt  as  if  all  were  lost.  Face  to  face  with  the  harsh 
voice,  the  broad,  brass-buttoned  breast,  and  the  positive 
demand  for  the  immediate  showing  of  the  paper,  Johannes 
felt  as  if  he  had  in  front  of  him  the  embodied  might  of  the 
great  German  Empire,  and  as  if,  in  default  of  the  thing  de- 
manded, there  remained  for  him  no  mercy. 

But,  in  astonishment,  he  heard  Marjon  whisper  in  Dutch: 
"Hey,  boy!     Don't  be  upset  by  that  dunce!" 

To  dare  to  say  "that  dunce,"  and  of  such  an  awe-inspiring 
personage,  was,  in  his  view,  an  heroic  deed;  and  he  was  greatly 
ashamed  of  his  own  cowardice. 

And  Marjon  actually  knew  how,  with  her  glib  tongue  and 
the  exhibition  of  some  gold-pieces,  to  win  this  representative 
of  Germany's  might  to  assume  a  softer  tone,  and  to  permit 
them  to  escape  without  an  inspection. 

But  it  was  another  matter  when  Keesje,  seated  upon  the 
arm  of  a  chair,  behind  an  unsuspecting  lieutenant,  took  it 
into  his  little  monkey-head  to  reach  over  the  shining  epaulet, 
and  grasp  the  big  cigar  —  probably  with  the  idea  of  discover- 
ing what  mysterious  enjoyment  lay  hidden  in  such  an  object. 
Keesje  missed  the  cigar,  but  caught  hold  of  the  upturned 
moustache,  and  then,  perceiving  he  had  missed  his  mark,  he 
kept  on  pulling,  spasmodically,  from  nervous  fright. 

The  lieutenant,  frightened,  tortured,  and  in  the  end  roundly 


246  THE    QUEST 

ridiculed,  naturally  became  enraged;  and  an  enraged  German 
lieutenant  was  quite  the  most  awful  creature  in  human  guise 
that  Johannes  had  ever  beheld.  He  expected  nothing  less 
than  a  beginning  of  the  Judgment  Day  —  the  end  of  all 
things. 

The  precise  details  of  that  scrimmage  he  was  never  able 
to  recall  with  accuracy.  There  was  a  general  fracas,  a  clatter 
of  iron  chairs  and  stands,  and  vehement  screeching  from 
Keesje,  who  behaved  himself  like  murdered  innocence.  From 
the  lieutenant's  highly  flushed  face  Johannes  heard  at  first  a 
word  indicating  that  he  was  suspected  of  having  vermin. 
That  left  him  cold,  for  he  had  been  so  glad  to  know  that  up 
to  this  time  he  had  escaped  them.  Then  he  saw  that  it  was 
not  the  shrieking  Keesje,  but  Marjon  herself,  who  had  been 
nabbed  and  was  being  severely  pommeled.  She  had  hurriedly 
caught  up  the  monkey,  and  was  trying  to  flee  with  him. 

Then  his  feelings  underwent  a  sudden  change,  as  if,  in  the 
theatre  of  his  soul,  "The  Captivity"  scene  were  suddenly 
shoved  right  and  left  to  make  place  for  "A  Mountain  View 
in  a  Thunder-storm." 

The  next  moment  he  found  himself  on  the  back  of  the  tall 
lieutenant,  pounding  away  with  all  his  might;  at  first  on 
something  which  off'ered  rather  too  much  resistance  —  a 
shining  black  helmet  —  afterward,  on  more  tender  things 
—  ears  and  neck,  presumably.  At  the  same  time  he  felt 
himself,  for  several  seconds,  uncommonly  happy. 

In  a  trice  there  was  another  change  in  the  situation,  and  he 
discovered  himself  in  a  grip  of  steel,  to  be  flung  down  upon  the 
dusty  road  in  front  of  the  terrace.  Then  he  suddenly  heard 
Marjon's  voice: 

"Has  he  hurt  you  \  Can  you  run  ?  Quick,  then;  run  like 
lifrhtninrr!" 

Without  understanding  why,  Johannes  did  as  she  said. 
The  children  ran  swiftly  down  the  mountain-side,  slipped 
through  the  shrubbery  of  a  little  park,  climbed  over  a  couple 
of  low,  stone  walls,  and  fled  into  a  small  house  on  the  bank 


THEQUEST  247 

of  the  river,  where  an  old  woman  in  a  black  kerchief  sat  peace- 
fully plucking  chickens. 

Johannes  and  Marjon  had  continually  met  with  helpfulness 
and  friendliness  among  poor  and  lowly  people,  and  now  they 
were  not  sent  off,  although  they  were  obliged  to  admit  that 
the  police  might  be  coming  after  them. 

"Well,  you  young  scamps,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a 
playful  chuckle,  "then  you  must  stay  till  night  in  the  pigsty. 
They'll  not  look  for  you  there;  it  smells  too  bad.  But  take 
care,  if  you  wake  Rike  up,  or  if  that  gorilla  of  yours  gets  to 
fighting  with  him!" 

So  there  they  sat  in  the  pigsty  with  Rike  the  fat  pig,  who 
made  no  movement  except  with  his  ears,  and  welcomed  his 
visitors  with  short  little  grunts.  It  began  to  rain,  and  they 
sat  as  still  as  mice  — -  Keesje,  also,  who  had  a  vague  impression 
that  he  was  to  blame  for  this  sad  state  of  things.  Marjon 
whispered: 

"Who  would  have  thought,  Jo,  that  you  cared  so  much  for 
me  ?  /  was  afraid  this  time,  and  you  punched  his  head.  It 
was  splendid!     Mayn't  I  give  you  a  kiss,  now?" 

In  silence,  Johannes  accepted  her  offer.  Then  Marjon 
went  on: 

"But  we  were  both  of  us  stupid;  I,  because  I  forgot  all 
about  Kees,  in  the  music;  and  you,  because  you  let  out  about 
me. 

"Let  out  about  you!"  exclaimed  Johannes,  in  amazement. 

"Certainly,"  said  Marjon,  "by  shouting  out  that  I  was 
a  girl!" 

"Did  I  do  that?"  asked  Johannes.  It  had  quite  slipped 
out  of  his  mind. 

"Yes,"  said  Marjon,  "and  now  we're  in  a  pickle  again! 
Other  togs!  You  can't  do  that  in  these  parts.  That's  worse 
than  hitting  a  lieutenant  over  the  head,  and  we  mustn't  do 
any  more  of  that." 

"Did  he  hit  you  hard?"  asked  Johannes.  "Does  it  hurt 
still?" 


248  THEQUEST 

"Oh,"  said  Marjon,  lightly,  "I've  had  worse  lickings  than 
that." 

That  night,  after  dark,  the  old  woman's  son  —  the  vine- 
dresser —  released  them  from  Rike's  hospitable  dwelling,  and 
took  them,  in  a  rowboat,  across  the  Rhine. 


XV 

Bright  and  early  one  still,  sunny  morning  they  came  to  a 
small  watering-place  nestled  in  the  mountains.  It  was  not 
yet  seven  o'clock.  A  light  mist  clung  around  the  dark -green 
summits,  and  the  dew  was  sparkling  on  the  velvety  green 
grass,  and  over  the  flaming  red  geraniums,  the  white, 
purple-hearted  carnations,  and  the  fragrant,  brown-green 
mignonette  of  the  park.  Fashionably  dressed  ladies  and 
gentlemen  were  drinking,  according  to  advice,  the  hot, 
saline  waters  of  the  springs;  and  later,  while  the  cheerful 
music  played,  they  promenaded  up  and  down  the  marble- 
paved  esplanade. 

Marjon  sought  such  places;  for  in  them  more  was  to  be 
earned.  Already  a  couple  of  competitors  were  there  before 
them  —  a  robust  man  and  his  little  daughter.  Both  of  them 
were  dressed  in  flesh-colored  tights,  and  in  spangled,  black 
velvet  knickerbockers;  but  oh,  how  dusty  and  worn  and 
patched  they  were!  The  little  girl  was  much  younger  than 
Marjon,  and  had  a  vacant,  impudent  little  face.  She  walked 
on  her  hands  in  such  a  way  that  her  feet  dangled  down  over 
her  black,  curly  pate. 

Johannes  did  not  enjoy  this  encounter.  Marjon  and  he 
belonged  to  the  better  class  of  Fair-people.  Their  caps  and 
jackets  just  now  were  not,  it  is  true,  quite  so  fresh  and  well 
brushed  as  formerly,  but  all  that  they  had  on  was  whole  — 
even  their  shoes.  Johannes  still  wore  his  suit,  which  was  that 
of  a  young  gentleman,  and  Marjon  was  wearing  the  velvet 
stable-jacket  of  a  circus-boy.  They  paid  no  attention  to  the 
shabby  Hercules  and  his  little  daughter. 

In  Marjon's  case  this  was  only  from  vexation  because  of 
the  competition;  in  Johannes',  he  well  knew,  it  was  pride. 
He  pitied  that  rough  man  with  the  barbarous  face,  and  that 
poor,  dull  child-acrobat;  but  it  was  not  to  his  taste  that  he 

249 


250  THEOUEST 

should  be  thought  their  colleague  and  equal,  by  all  these  re- 
spectable watering-place  guests. 

He  was  so  vexed  he  would  not  sing;  and  he  walked  dreamily 
on  amid  the  flowers,  with  vague  fancies,  and  a  deep  melan- 
choly, in  his  soul.  He  thought  of  his  childhood  home, 
and  the  kitchen-garden;  of  the  dunes,  and  of  the  autumn  day 
when  he  went  to  the  gardener's,  at  Robinetta's  country  home; 
of  Windekind,  of  Markus,  and  of  Aunt  Serena's  flower- 
garden. 

The  flowers  looked  at  him  with  their  wide-open,  serious 
eyes  —  the  pinks,  the  stiff,  striped  zinias,  and  the  flaming 
yellow  sunflowers.  Apparently,  they  all  pitied  him,  as  if 
whispering  to  one  another:  "Look!  Poor  Little  Johannes! 
Do  you  remember  when  he  used  to  visit  us  in  the  land  of  elves 
and  flowers?  He  was  so  young  and  happy  then!  Now  he 
is  sad  and  forsaken  —  a  shabby  circus-boy  who  must  sing  for 
his  living.     Is  it  not  too  bad  ?" 

And  the  white,  purple-hearted  carnations  rocjked  to  and 
fro  with  compassion,  and  the  great  sunflowers  hung  their 
heads  and  looked  straight  down,  with  dismay  in  their 
eyes. 

The  sunshine  was  so  calm  and  splendid,  and  the  pointed 
heads  of  the  mignonette  smelled  so  sweet!  And  when  Jo- 
hannes came  to  a  bed  of  drooping  blue  lobelias  that  seemed 
always  to  have  shining  drops  of  dewy  tears  in  their  eyes 
purely  from  sympathy,  then  he  felt  so  sorry  himself  for 
poor  Little  Johannes  that  he  had  to  go  and  sit  down  on 
a  bench  to  cry.  And  there,  just  as  if  they  understood  the 
situation  — ■  in  the  music  tent,  concealed  by  the  shrubbery 
—  the  portly  band-master  and  his  musicians,  in  their 
flat,  gold-embroidered  caps,  were  playing,  very  feelingly,  a 
melancholy  folksong.  Marjon,  however,  who  persistently 
kept  business  in  mind,  was  on  the  marble  esplanade,  deep 
in  jugglery  with  plates  and  eggs  and  apples.  Johannes  saw 
it,  and  was  a  little  ashamed  of  himself.  He  began  trying  to 
make  verses: 


THEQUEST  251 

"Ah,  scarlet  geranium,  blossom  true! 

Ah,  lovely  lobelia  blue! 
Why  look  those  eyes  so  mournfully  ? 

For  whom  do  you  wear, 

In  the  mornino;  bright. 
Those  glistening  tears  of  dew  ? 

"Ah!  do  you  still  know  me?  .  .  ." 

But  he  got  no  further,  because  he  found  it  too  hard,  and 
also  because  he  had  no  paper  with  him. 

Just  then  Marjon  came  up: 

"Why  do  you  sit  there  bungling,  Jo,  and  let  me  do  all  the 
work  ?  As  soon  as  the  bread  and  butter  comes  you'll  be  sure 
to  be  on  hand." 

She  spoke  rather  tartly,  and  it  was  not  surprising  that 
Johannes  retorted  curtly: 

"I  am  not  always  thinking  of  money,  and  something  to 
eat,  like  you." 

That  hit  harder  than  he  thought;  and  now  the  sun  was 
sparkling  not  only  upon  the  dew-drops  in  the  lobelia's  eyes, 
but  upon  those  in  the  two  clear  eyes  of  a  little  girl.  However, 
Marjon  was  not  angry,  but  said  gently: 

"Were  you  making  verses  ?" 

Johannes  nodded,  without  speaking. 

"Excuse  me,  Jo.     May  I  hear  them  .f"' 

And  Johannes  began: 

"Ah,  scarlet  geranium,  blossom  true! 
Ah,  lovely  lobelia  blue! 
Why  look  those  eyes  so  earnestly  ? 
Why  thus  bedight, 
This  morning  bright 
With  glistening  tears  of  dew  ? 

''Oh,  do  you  still  think  of  the  olden  days  .   ,   ." 


252 


THE    QUEST 


Again  he  broke  down,  and  gazed  silently  out  before  him, 
with  sorrowful  eyes. 

"Are  you  going  to  finish  it,  Jo?"  asked  Marjon  with  quiet 
deference.  "You  just  stay  here,  I  shall  get  on  very  well 
alone.     See  if  I  don't!" 

And  she  returned  to  the  fashionable,  general  promenade, 
with  Keesje,  her  plates,  her  eggs,  and  her  apples. 

Then  Johannes  looked  up,  and  suddenly  saw  before  him 
something  so  charming  and  captivating  that  he  became  con- 
scious of  an  entirely  new  sensation.  It  was  as  if  until  now  he 
had  been  living  in  a  room  whose  walls  were  pictured  with 
flowers  and  mountains  and  waterfalls  and  blue  sky,  and  as  if 
those  walls  had  suddenly  vanished,  and  he  could  see  all  about 
him  the  real  blue  heavens,  and  the  real  woods  and  rivers. 

The  sunny,  flower-filled  little  park  of  the  watering-place 
was  bounded  by  steep  rocks  of  porphyry.  At  the  foot  of  them, 
by  the  side  of  a  small  stream  of  clear,  dark  water,  was  a  rich 
growth  of  shadowy  underwood.  A  small  path  led  from  the 
mountain,  and  two  children  were  descending  it,  hand  in  hand, 
talking  fast  in  their  light,  clear  voices. 

They  were  two  little  girls,  about  nine  and  ten  years  of  age. 
They  wore  black  velvet  frocks  confined  at  the  waist  by  colored 
ribbons  —  one  red,  the  other  ivory-white.  Each  one  had 
trim,  smoothly  drawn  stockings  of  the  same  color  as  her  sash, 
and  fine,  low  shoes.  They  were  bare-headed,  and  both  had 
thick  golden  hair  that  fell  down  over  the  black  velvet  in  heavy, 
glossy  curls. 

The  musicians,  as  if  aware  of  their  presence,  now  played  a 
charming  dance-tune,  and  the  two  little  girls,  with  both  hands 
clasped  together,  began  playfully  keeping  time  with  their 
slender  limbs  —  One,  two,  three  —  one,  two,  three  —  or  the 
"  three-step, "as  children  say.  And  what  Johannes  experienced 
when  he  saw  and  heard  that,  I  am  not  going  even  to  try  to 
describe  to  you,  for  the  reason  that  he  has  never  been  able 
himself  to  do  it. 

Only  know  that  it  was  something  very  delightful  and  very 


THEQUEST  253 

mysterious,  for  it  made  him  think  of  Windekind's  fairyland. 
Why,  was  more  than  he  could  understand. 

At  first,  it  seemed  as  if  something  out  of  the  glorious  land 
of  Windekind  and  Father  Pan  had  been  brought  to  him,  and 
that  it  was  those  two  little  girls  upon  the  mountain-path, 
keeping  time  to  the  music  with  their  slim  little  feet. 

Then,  hand  in  hand,  the  two  children  went  through  the 
park,  chatting  as  they  went  —  now  and  then  running,  and 
sometimes  laughing  merrily  as  they  stopped  beside  a  flower 
or  a  butterfly,  until,  through  the  maze  of  promenaders,  they 
disappeared  in  the  halls  of  a  large  hotel. 

Johannes  followed  after  them,  wondering  what  they  were 
so  much  interested  in,  observing  the  while  all  their  pretty 
little  ways,  their  intonations  and  winsome  gestures,  their 
dainty  dress,  their  beautiful  hair  and  slender  forms. 

When  he  was  again  with  Marjon,  he  could  not  help  re- 
marking how  much  less  pretty  she  was  —  with  her  meagre 
form  and  pale  face  —  her  larger  hands  and  feet,  and  short, 
ash-colored  hair.  Johannes  said  nothing  about  this  little 
adventure,  but  was  very  quiet  and  introspective.  Because 
of  this,  Marjon  also  was  for  a  long  time  less  merry  than  usual. 

That  afternoon,  when  they  went  the  round  of  the  place 
again,  trying  to  collect  money  from  the  families  who,  according 
to  the  German  custom,  were  taking  cake  and  coffee  in  front 
of  the  hotels  and  the  pavilions,  Johannes  felt  himself  getting 
very  nervous  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  big  hotel  into  which 
the  two  little  girls  had  gone.  His  heart  beat  so  fast  he  could 
not  sing  any  more. 

And  sure  enough,  as  they  came  nearer,  he  heard  the  very 
same  two  bird-like  little  voices  which  had  been  ringing  in  his 
ears  the  whole  day  long,  shouting  for  joy.  That  was  not  on 
account  of  Little  Johannes,  but  of  Keesje.  For  the  first  time 
Johannes  was  fiercely  jealous  of  him. 

In  a  gentle,  quieting  way,  a  musical  voice  called  out  two 
names :  "  Olga !  —  Frieda ! " 

But  Johannes  was  too  much  confused  and  undone  to  note 


254  THEQUEST 

clearly  what  he  saw.  It  was  they  —  the  two  lovely  children 
whom  he  had  first  seen  in  the  morning  —  and  they  came  close 
up,  and  spoke  to  Keesje.  Their  mother  called  them  again, 
and  then  the  children  coaxed  and  pleaded,  in  most  supplicating 
tones,  that  the  delightful  monkey  might  be  allowed  to  come  a 
little  nearer  —  that  they  might  give  him  some  cake,  and 
that  he  might  perform  his  tricks. 

It  seemed  to  Johannes  as  if  he  were  in  a  dream  —  as  if 
everything  around  him  were  hazy  and  indistinct.  He  had 
felt  that  way  when  he  stood  in  Robinetta's  house,  confronted 
by  those  hostile  men.  But  then  everything  was  dismal  and 
frightful,  while  now  it  was  glad  and  glorious.  He  heard, 
vaguely,  the  confusing  sounds  of  voices,  and  the  clatter  of 
cups  and  saucers,  and  silver  utensils.  He  felt  the  touch  of 
the  children's  gentle  little  hands,  and  was  led  to  a  small  table 
whence  the  reproving  voice  had  sounded.  A  lady  and  a  gentle- 
man were  sitting  there.     Some  dainties  were  given  to  Keesje. 

"Can  you  sing  ?"  asked  a  voice  in  German. 

Then  Johannes  bethought  him  for  the  first  time  that  the 
two  little  girls  had  been  speaking  in  English.  Marjon  tuned 
her  guitar  and  gave  him  a  hard  poke  in  the  side  with  the  neck 
of  it,  because  she  found  him  getting  so  flustered  again.  Then 
they  sang  the  song  that  Johannes  had  completed  that  morning, 
and  which  Marjon  had  since  put  to  music. 

"Ah,  scarlet  geranium,  blossom  true! 

Ah,  lovely  lobelia  blue! 
Why  gaze  at  me  so  mournfully  .'' 

Why  thus  bedight. 

This  morning  bright 
With  glistening  tears  of  dew  ? 

"Ah!  is't  remembrance  of  olden  days, 
When  the  exquisite  nightingale  sung? 
When  the  fairies  danced,  over  mossy  ways. 
In  the  still  moonlight. 


THE    GUEST  255 

'Neath  the  stars  so  bright, 
When  yet  the  world  was  young  ? 

"Ah,  scarlet  geranium,  blossom  true! 
Ah,  lovely  lobelia  blue! 
The  sun  is  grown  dim,  and  the  sky  o'ercast, 
The  winds  grow  cold. 
The  world  is  old. 
And  the  Autumn  comes  fast  —  so  fast!" 

Johannes  was  singing  clearly  again.  The  lump  in  his 
throat  had  gone  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come. 

Then  he  heard  the  gentleman  say  in  great  astonishment: 
"They  are  singing  in  Dutch!"  And  then  they  had  to  repeat 
their  song. 

Johannes  sang  as  he  never  yet  had  sung  —  with  full  fervor. 
All  his  sadness,  all  his  indefinite  longings,  found  voice  in 
his  song.  Marjon  accompanied  him  with  soft,  subdued 
guitar-strokes,  and  with  her  alto  voice.  Yet  the  music  was 
entirely  hers. 

The  effect  upon  the  family  at  the  table,  moreover,  was  quite 
different  from  that  which  up  to  this  time  they  had  produced. 
The  stylish  lady  uttered  a  prolonged  "Ah!"  in  a  soft,  high 
voice,  and  closely  scanned  the  pair  through  a  long-handled, 
tortoise-shell  lorgnette.  The  gentleman  said  in  Dutch:  "Fine! 
First  rate!  Really,  that  is  unusually  good!"  The  little  girls 
clapped  their  hand,  and  shouted  "Bravo!  Bravo!" 

Johannes  felt  his  face  glowing  with  pleasure  and  satisfaction. 
Then  the  stylish  lady,  placing  her  lorgnette  in  her  lap,  said: 

"Come  up  nearer,  boys."  She,  too,  now  spoke  in  Dutch, 
but  with  a  foreign  accent,  that  sounded  very  charming  to 
Johannes. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said  kindly,  "where  did  you  come  from, 
and  where  did  you  find  that  beautiful  little  song  ?" 

"We  came  from  Holland,  Mevrouw,"  replied  Johannes, 
still  a  trifle  confused,  "and  we  made  the  song  ourselves." 


256  THEQUEST 

"Made  it  yourselves!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  with  affable 
astonishment,  while  she  exchanged  a  glance  with  the  gentle- 
man beside  her.     "The  words,  or  the  music?" 

"Both,"  said  Johannes.  "I  made  the  words,  and  my 
friend  the   music." 

"Well,  well,  well!"  said  the  lady,  smiling  at  his  pretty  air 
of  self-satisfaction. 

And  then  they  both  had  to  sit  at  the  table  and  have  some 
cake  and  coffee.  Johannes  was  gloriously  happy,  but  the 
two  dear  little  girls  had  eyes  only  for  Keesje,  whom  they 
tried  cautiously  to  caress.  When  Keesje  turned  his  head 
round  rather  too  suddenly,  and  looked  at  them  too  sharply 
out  of  his  piercing  little  brown  eyes,  they  quickly  withdrew 
their  small  white  hands,  making  merry  little  shrieks  of  fright. 
How  jealous  Johannes  was  of  Keesje!  Marjon  wore  the 
serious,  indifferent  expression  of  face  that  was  native  to  her. 

"  Now  tell  us  a  little  more,"  said  the  charming  lady.  "  Surely 
you  are  not  common  tramps,  are  you?" 

Johannes  looked  into  the  refined  face,  and  the  eyes  that 
were  slightly  contracted  from  near-sightedness.  It  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  never  before  had  seen  such  a  noble  and  beau- 
tiful lady.  She  was  far  from  old  yet  —  perhaps  thirty  years 
of  age  —  and  was  very  exquisitely  dressed,  with  a  cloud  of 
lace  about  her  shoulders  and  wrists,  pearls  around  her  neck, 
and  wearing  a  profusion  of  sparkling  rings  and  bracelets. 
An  exquisite  perfume  surrounded  her,  and  as  she  looked  at 
Johannes,  and  addressed  him  so  kindly,  he  was  completely 
enchanted  and  bewildered.  Acceding  to  her  request  he 
began,  with  joyful  alacrity,  to  tell  of  himself  and  his  life,  of 
the  death  of  his  father,  of  his  Aunt  Serena,  and  of  his  meeting 
with  Marjon,  and  their  flight  together.  But  still  he  was 
discreet  enough  not  to  begin  about  Windekind  and  Pluizer, 
and  his  first  meeting  with  Markus. 

The  circle  gave  close  attention,  while  Marjon  looked  as 
dull  and  dejected  as  ever,  and  busied  herself  with  Keesje. 

"How  extremely  interesting!"  said  the  children's  mother, 


THE    QUEST  257 

addressing  the  gentleman  who  sat  next  her.  "Do  you  not 
think  so,  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  ?  —  Very,  very  interesting  ?" 

"Yes,  Mevrouw,  I  do,  indeed  —  very  pecuHar!  It  is  a 
find.     What  is  your  name,  my  boy  ?" 

"Johannes,  Mijnheer." 

"Is  that  so.''  —  But  you  are  not  Johannes,  the  friend  of 
Windekind!" 

Johannes  blushed,  and  stammered  in  great  confusion: 
"Yes,  —  I   am  he,  Mijnheer!" 

Suddenly  Keesje  gave  an  ugly  screech,  causing  the  lady 
and  gentleman  to  start  nervously.  Evidently,  Marjon  had 
pinched  his  tail  —  a  thing  she  rarely  did. 


XVI 

See,  now,  what  comes  of  not  doing  what  I  expressly  desired! 
Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  knew  very  well  that  I  did  not  wish 
Little  Johannes  to  be  taken  in  hand;  and  yet  now  it  happened, 
and,  as  you  are  to  hear,  with  disastrous  consequences. 

Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  was  not  more  than  six  years  the 
senior  of  Johannes.  He  had  large  blue  eyes,  a  waxy  white 
face  with  two  spots  of  soft  color,  a  scanty,  flax-like,  double- 
pointed  beard,  and  a  thick  tuft  of  sandy  hair  artfully  arranged 
above  his  forehead.  A  scarf-pin  of  blue  sapphires  was  spark- 
ling in  his  broad,  dark-violet  scarf,  a  high,  snow-white  collar 
reached  from  his  modish  coat-collar  up  to  the  hair  in  his  neck, 
and  his  hands  —  covered  with  rings  —  were  resting  on  the 
exquisitely  carved,  ivory  head  of  an  ebony  walking-stick. 
On  the  table,  in  front  of  him,  lay  a  fine,  light-grey  felt  hat,  and 
his  pantaloons  were  of  the  same  color. 

All  were  silent  for  a  moment  after  Johannes'  acknowledg- 
ment. Then  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  pulled  out  a  handsome 
pocket-book,  bearing  an  ornamental  monogram  in  small 
diamonds,  made  in  it  several  entries,  and  said  to  the  lady: 

"We  can  say  to  a  certainty  that  this  is  not  an  accident. 
Evidently,  his  'karma'  is  favorable.  That  he  should  have 
come  directly  here  to  us  who  know  his  history,  and  compre- 
hend his  soul,  is  the  work  of  the  highest  order  of  intelligences 
—  those  who  are  attending  him.  We  must  heed  the  sug- 
gestion." 

"It  surely  is  an  important  circumstance,  and  one  to  be 
considered,"  said  the  lady,  irresolutely.  "Where  do  you 
live  ?" 

"Over  there  by  the  railway  —  in  the  lodging-house,"  re- 
plied Marjon. 

Mevrouw  looked  rather  coldly,  and  said:  "Well,  hoys,  you 
may  go  home  now.     Here  are  three  marks  for  each  of  you. 

258 


THEQUEST  259 

And,  Johannes,  will  you  not  write  out  that  Httle  song  for 
me  ?  There  really  was  a  charming  melancholy  in  it.  'Twas 
sympathetic." 

"Yes,  Mevrouw,  I  will  do  so.  And  then  may  I  come  and 
bring  it  to  you  myself?" 

"Certainly,  certainly!"  said  the  lady;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
she  closely  scrutinized  his  clothing,  through  her  lorgnette. 

When  they  had  turned  away,  and  were  out  of  sight,  Marjon 
ran  straight  back  again  to  the  rear  of  the  hotel,  and  began 
making  personal  inquiries,  and  kept  busy  as  long  as  she  could 
find  any  one  who  knew  anything  about  the  household  of  the 
stately  lady,  and  the  two  lovely  little  girls. 

"Do  you  mean  the  Countess?"  asked  a  conceited  head- 
waiter,  with  scornful  emphasis.  "Do  you  perchance  belong 
to  the  family  ?" 

"Well,  why  not?"  retorted  Marjon,  with  great  self-assur- 
ance. "All  the  same,  there  have  been  countesses  who  eloped 
with   head-waiters." 

The  cook  and  the  chambermaids  laughed. 

"Clear  out,  you  rascal!"  said  the  waiter. 

"What  country  is  she  from  ?"  asked  Marjon,  undeterred. 

"She?  She  has  no  native  country.  The  Count  was  a 
Pole,  and  the  Countess  came  from  America.  At  present  she 
is  living  in  Holland." 

"Widow  —  or  divorced  ?"  asked  one  of  the  chambermaids. 

"Divorced,  of  course!     That's  much  more  interesting." 

"And  that  young  Hollander?     Is  he  related  to  her?" 

"What!     He's  a  fellow-traveler.     They  met  there." 

"Shall  we  not  start  out  again,  Jo  ?"  asked  Marjon,  as  they 
sat  together  eating  their  supper  of  brown  bread  and  cheese,  in 
the  same  cramped,  smoky  room  where  the  humble  Hercules 
and  his  little  daughter  were  also  sitting  —  dressed,  at  present, 
in  shabby  civiHan  clothes,  and  each  provided  with  a  glass  of 
beer. 

"I  am  going  to  take  my  song,"  said  Johannes. 


26o  THEQUEST 

"Manage  it  some  way,  Jo;  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with 
those  people." 

Johannes  ate  his  supper  in  silence.  But,  secretly,  his 
feeling  toward  Marjon  grew  cooler,  and  she  dropped  in  his 
estimation.  She  was  jealous,  or  insensitive  to  what  was 
beautiful  or  noble  in  people.  She  had  also  lived  so  long 
among  dirty  and  rude  folk!  Oh,  those  two  dear  little  girls! 
They  were  nobler  and  more  refined  beings.  Softly  —  fer- 
vently—  Johannes  repeated  their  names:  "Olga!     Frieda!" 

Then,  as  true  as  you  live,  there  came  a  gold-bebraided 
small  boy  from  the  big  hotel,  bearing  a  note  so  perfumed  that 
the  close  little  room  was  filled  with  its  sweetness;  and  the  beer 
drinkers  sniffed  it  with  astonishment. 

It  was  from  Mijnheer,  requesting  Johannes  to  come  to  him, 
but  without  the  monkey. 

"Go  by  yourself,"  said  Marjon.  "Kees  mustn't  go  along 
because  he  has  an  odor  of  another  sort.  You  may  say  that 
I  prefer  that  of  Kees." 

Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  was  drinking  strong  black  coffee 
from  small  metal  cups,  and  smoking  a  Turkish  pipe  with  an 
amber  mouthpiece.  At  each  pull  of  the  pipe  the  water  gurgled. 
He  wore  black  silk  hose  and  polished  shoes,  and  he  invited 
Johannes  to  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  broad  divan. 

After  a  pause  he  addressed  Johannes  as  follows:  "There  — 
that's  it,  Johannes!  Sit  quite  still,  and  while  we  talk  try  to 
maintain  yourself  in  the  uppermost  soul-sphere."  Then, 
after  a  period  of  pipe-gurgling,  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  asked: 
"Are  you  there  ?" 

Johannes  was  not  quite  sure  about  it,  but  he  nodded  assent, 
being  very  curious  concerning  what  was  to  follow. 

"I  can  ask  you  that,  Johannes,  because  we  understand 
each  other  instantly.  You  and  I,  you  know  —  you  and  I! 
We  knew  each  other  before  we  were  in  the  body.  It  is  not 
necessary  for  us  to  make  each  other's  acquaintance  after  the 
manner  of  ordinary,  commonplace  people.     We  can  instantly 


THEQUEST  261 

do  as  you  and  Windekind  did.  We  are  not  learning  to  know, 
but  we  recognize  each  other." 

Johannes  hstened  attentively  to  this  interesting  and  ex- 
traordinary statement.  He  looked  at  the  speaker  respectfully, 
and  tried  indeed  to  recall  him,  but  without  success. 

"You  will  already  have  wondered  that  I  should  know  about 
your  adventures.  But  that  is  not  so  very  marvelous,  for  there 
is  some  one  else  to  whom  you  appear  to  have  told  them.  Do 
you  know  whom  I  mean?" 

Johannes  knew  well  whom  he  meant. 

"Really,  you  ought  not  to  have  done  it,  Johannes.  When 
I  heard  of  it  I  said  at  once  that  it  was  a  great  pity.  The 
world  is  too  coarse  and  superficial  in  such  matters.  People 
do  not  comprehend  them.  You  must  not  permit  that  which 
is  rare  and  delicate  to  be  desecrated  and  contaminated  by  the 
foul  touch  of  the  indifferent  public  —  the  stupid  multitude. 
Do  you  understand?" 

Johannes  nodded,  the  pipe  gurgled,  and  Mijnheer  van 
Lieverlee  took  a  sip  of  coffee.  Then,  in  a  lighter  tone,  and 
gesticulating  airily  with  his  slender,  white  hands,  he  resumed: 

"The  veil  of  Maja,  Johannes,  obscures  the  vision  of  all 
who  are  created  —  of  all  who  breathe  and  have  aspirations  — 
of  all  who  enjoy  and  suffer.  We  must  extricate  ourselves 
from  it.     Will  you  have  some  coffee,  too  ?" 

"If  you  please,  Mijnheer,"  said  Johannes. 

"A  cigarette  ?     Or  do  you  not  smoke  yet  ?" 

"No,  Mijnheer." 

"It  is  true,  Windekind  did  not  like  tobacco  smoke.  But  I 
do  not  smoke  as  common  people  do,  for  the  fun  of  it  or  be- 
cause it  is  pleasant.  No!  I  permit  myself  to  do  so  through 
my  lowest  qualities  —  the  eighth  and  ninth  articulations  of 
Karma-Rupa.  My  higher  attributes  —  the  fourth  and  fifth 
—  remain  apart;  just  as  a  gentleman  from  the  balcony  of  his 
country-seat  views  his  cattle  grazing.  The  cows  do  nothing 
but  eat  ravenously,  digest,  and  eliminate.  The  gentleman 
makes  of  them  a  poem  or  a  picture." 


262  THEOUEST 

A  pause,  accompanied  by  the  gurgling  of  the  pipe. 

"Well,  as  I  have  said,  we  should  not  cast  before  swine  the 
pearls  of  our  higher  sensations  and  states  of  mind.  We, 
Johannes  —  you  and  I,  who  have  already  passed  through 
many  incarnations  —  we  are  aged  souls  —  we  have  already 
worn  the  veil  so  long  that  it  is  beginning  to  wear  out.  We  can 
see  through  it.  Now,  we  must  not  have  too  much  to  do  with 
those  young  novices  who  are  just  setting  out.  We  should 
decline,  retrograde,  and  lose  the  benefit  of  our  costly  conquests." 

That  all  seemed  quite  just  to  Johannes,  and  very  flattering 
moreover.  And  it  was  also  now  made  clear  to  him  why  he 
got  on  so  poorly  with  people.     He  was  of  age,  among  minors. 

"We,  Johannes,"  resumed  Van  Lieverlee,  "belong,  so  to 
speak,  to  the  veterans  of  life.  We  bear  the  scars  of  countless 
incarnations,  the  stripes  of  many  years  —  or,  rather,  let  me 
say  ages  —  of  service.  We  must  maintain  our  rank,  and  not 
throw  to  the  dogs  our  dignity  and  prestige.  This  you  will  do 
if  you  continue  to  noise  abroad  all  your  intimate  experiences; 
and  I  believe  you  still  have  a  childish  and  quite  perilous  ten- 
dency that  way. 

Johannes  thought  of  his  many  faults  and  blunders  —  of 
his  stupidity  in  asserting  his  wisdom  at  school,  and  in  blurting 
out  Windekind's  name  before  the  men.  Ashamed,  he  sat 
staring  into  his  empty  coffee  cup. 

"In  short,  it  evidently  was  intended  that  you  should  find 
me,  this  time  —  me  and  Countess  Dolores.  For  you  must 
know  that  you  have  found  two  souls  of  the  supremest  refine- 
ment.    Exactly  what  you  need." 

"Yes,  how  charming  she  is,  and  how  lovely  the  children 
are!"  chimed  in  Johannes,  enthusiastically. 

"Not  on  account  of  her  being  a  countess,"  said  Van  Liever- 
lee, with  a  gesture  of  disdain.  "Titles  signify  nothing  with 
us.  My  family  is  perhaps  more  distinguished  than  hers. 
But  she  is  the  sister  of  our  souls  —  a  blending  of  glowing 
passion   and   lily-white   purity." 

At  these  fine  words  of  Van  Lieverlee,  uttered  with  great  care 


THEQUEST  263 

and  emphasis,  Johannes  felt  himself  coloring  with  embarrass- 
ment. How  did  any  one  dare  to  say  such  words  as  if  it  were 
nothing  ? 

"Are  you  a  poet  ?"  he  asked  bashfully. 

"Certainly,  I  am.  But  you  are  one  also,  my  boy.  Did 
you  not  know  it .''  Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you,  you  are  a  poet. 
You  see,  at  present  you  are  the  ugly  duckling  that  for  the  first 
time  meets  a  swan.  Do  you  understand  ?  Do  not  be  afraid, 
Johannes.  Do  not  be  afraid,  brother  swan!  Lift  up  your 
yellow  beak  —  I  shall  not  oppress  you,  but  embrace  you." 

Johannes  did  lift  up  his  yellow  beak,  but,  instead  of  em- 
bracing him.  Van  Lieverlee  took  out  the  diamond-bedecked 
pocket-book,  and  began  writing  in  it,  hurriedly.  Then,  as  he 
put  away  book  and  pencil,  he  smilingly  said:  "One  must  hold 
fast  to  good  ideas.     They  are  precious." 

"Well,  then,"  he  resumed,  drawing  at  his  pipe  again,  while 
again  it  gurgled  loudly,  "you  really  could  not  have  managed 
better,  in  the  pursuit  of  your  great  aim,  than  to  have  come  to 
us.  We  know  the  explanation  of  all  those  singular  adventures 
with  Pluizer  and  Windekind,  and  we  can  show  you  the  in- 
fallible way  to  what  you  are  seeking.     That  is,  we  go  together." 

Now  was  not  that  good  news  for  Johannes  ?  How  stupid 
of  Marjon  not  to  be  willing  to  go  too!  He  listened  thought- 
fully to  what  followed. 

"Give  me  your  attention,  Johannes,  and  I  will  tell  you  who 
all  those  beings  are  that  you  have  encountered.  I  will  also 
solve  the  riddle  of  their  power,  and  tell  you  what  there  remains 
for  us  to  do." 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Countess  Dolores 
came  in  with  the  children.  She  was  dazzling,  with  magnifi- 
cent jewels  sparkling  on  her  bare  neck  and  arms.  The  chil- 
dren were  in  white.  The  grand  table-d'hote  was  over,  and 
the  countess  had  now  come  to  drink  her  Arabic  coffee  with 
Van  Lieverlee. 

"Ah!"  said  she,  looking  at  him  through  her  lorgnette, 
"Have  you   a   visitor?     Shall  we   disturb  you?     But,   really 


264  THEQUEST 

you  can  make  such  delicious  coffee,  and  I  cannot  endure  the 
hotel  coffee!" 

"Where  is  the  monkey?  Where  is  the  monkey?"  cried 
the  two  children,  running  up  to  Johannes. 

Johannes  stood  up,  in  confusion.  The  two  winsome  chil- 
dren encircled  him.  He  scented  the  exquisite  perfume  of 
their  luxuriant  hair  and  their  rich  dress.  He  felt  their  warm 
breath,  their  soft  hands.  He  was  charmed,  through  and 
through  —  possessed  by  delightful  emotions.  The  little  girls 
caressed  him  while  they  asked  after  the  monkey,  until  the 
gently  reproachful  "Olga!  —  Frieda!"  sounded  again. 

Then  they  went  and  sat  with  Johannes  on  the  sofa,  one 
each  side  of  him.     The  mother  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Now  proceed  with  your  talking,"  said  she,  "so  that  I  can 
be  learning  a  little."  Then  in  English:  "If  you  listen  quietly, 
girls,  and  are  not  troublesome,  you  may  stay  here." 

Van  Lieverlee  had  risen,  put  aside  his  Turkish  pipe,  grasped 
the  lapel  of  his  skirtless  dinner  coat  with  his  left  hand,  and 
was  gesticulating  with  the  right,  in  front  of  Johannes  and  the 
countess. 

"I  ought  to  explain  to  him  who  Windekind,  Wisterik,  or  — 
What  is  his  name  ?  Wistarik  ?  .  .  .  andPluizer,  are,  Mevrouw. 
You  know,  do  you  not,  those  characters  in  Johannes'  life  ?" 

"I  —  I  —  do  not  recall  them,"  said  the  lady,  "but  that  is 
nothing  —  speak  out.  Do  not  mind  me.  I  do  not  count. 
I  am  only  a  silly  creature." 

"Ah!  If  people  in  general  were  similarly  silly!  Winde- 
kind, Wisterik,  and  Pluizer,  then  Johannes,  are  nothing  other 
than  "dewas,"  or  elementals,  materialized  by  a  supreme 
effort  of  the  will.  They  are  personified,  or  rather  imper- 
sonated, natural  power — plasmatic  appearances  from  the 
crystal-clear,  elementary  oneness.  Windekind  is  harmonic 
poetry,  or,  rather,  poetic  harmony  —  the  original  dawning, 
or,  rather,  the  dawning  originality,  of  our  planetary  aboriginal 
consciousness.  Wistarik,  on  the  contrary,  or  Pluizer,  is 
demoniacal   antithesis  —  the  eternally  skeptical   negation,  or 


THEQUEST  265 

negative  skepticism.  They  are  like  all  ebb  and  flow,  like  the 
swinging  pendulum,  like  winter  and  summer,  eternally  strug- 
gling with  each  other  —  continually  destroying  and  forever 
reviving,  the  indispensable,  mutually  excluding,  and  yet  again 
mutually  complementing,  first  principles  of  dualistic  monism, 
or  of  monistic  dualism." 

"How  interesting!"  murmured  the  countess;  and  turning 
to  Johannes,  she  asked  very  seriously:  "And  have  you  really 
met  with  these  elementals?" 

"I  —  I  believe  I  have,"  stammered  Johannes. 

"But,  Van  Lieverlee,  then  he  truly  is  a  medium!  Do  you 
not  think   so  ?" 

"Of  the  second  grade,  Mevrouw,  undoubtedly.  Perhaps, 
with  study  and  proper  culture,  he  will  attain  the  first 
rank." 

"But  would  it  not  be  well  for  us  to  introduce  him  to  the 
Pleiades  ?" 

And  turning  toward  Johannes,  she  said  affably:  "We  have 
a  circle,  you  know,  for  the  study  of  the  higher  sciences,  and 
for  the  general  improvement  of  our  'Karma.'" 

"An  ideal  society,  with  a  social  ideal,"  supplemented  Van 
Lieverlee. 

That  sounded  very  alluring  to  Johannes.  Would  Frieda 
and  Olga  belong  to  it  also  ?  he  wondered. 

He  said,  however,  as  politely  and  modestly  as  possible: 
"But,  Mevrouw,  would  I  really  be  in  place  there?" 

His  manner  pleased  the  countess.  Smiling  most  sweetly 
she  said:  "Surely,  my  boy!  Rank  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
higher  knowledge." 

Then  to  Van  Lieverlee,  in  English,  with  that  charac- 
teristic, cool  loftiness  of  the  English,  who  suppose  the  hearer 
does  not  understand  their  language:  "Really,  he  is  not  so  bad 
■ — not  so  very  common!" 

But  Johannes  had  learned  English  at  school;  yet,  because 
he  was  still  such  a  mere  boy,  with  so  little  self-conscious- 
ness, he  felt  flattered  rather  than  oflPended.     He  said  —  using 


266  THEQUEST 

English  now,  himself:  "I  am  not  good  yet,  but  I  will  try  my 
best  to  become  so." 

This  word  fell  again  upon  good  ground,  with  mother  and 
daughters.  There  came  to  Johannes  that  exhilarating  sen- 
sation of  making  conquests;  he.  Little  Johannes  —  a  brief 
while  ago  the  scissors-grinder  boy  —  at  present  a  singer  of 
street  songs  —  he,  in  a  world  of  supremely  refined  spirits, 
with  a  beautiful  countess,  all  decked  with  glittering  jewels, 
and  her  two  enchanting  little  daughters!  And  that,  not  on 
account  of  birth  or  patronage,  but  through  his  own  personal 
powers.  If  he  could  only  see  Wistik  again,  now  —  how  he 
would  boast  of  it! 

But,  suddenly,  to  his  honor  be  it  said,  something  else 
occurred  to  him: 

"My  comrade,  Mevrouw!     May  we  both  go?" 

"Who  is  your  comrade  ?     How  did  you  meet  him  ?" 

Whoever  had  heard  Johannes  then  would  not  have  said 
that,  only  so  short  a  time  ago,  he  had  thought  slightingly  of 
his  little  friend.  He  stood  up  for  her  warmly,  described  her 
natural  goodness  and  her  unusual  talents,  —  yes  even  drew 
on  his  imagination  for  her  probable  noble  origin,  until  it 
ended  in  his  having  touched  the  heart  of  Countess  Dolores. 
But,  in  his  enthusiasm,  he  said,  by  turns,  "he"  and  "she,"  so 
that  one  of  the  little  girls,  being  observing,  as  children  usually 
are,  abruptly  asked:  "Why  do  you  say  'she'?  Is  it  a 
girl?" 

Then  Johannes  confessed.  It  could  do  no  harm  here,  he 
thought  —  among  such  high-minded  people.  Blushing  more 
deeply  than  ever,  he  said:  "Yes,  it  is  really  a  girl.  She  is 
disguised,  so  as  not  to  fall  into  anybody's  hands." 

Van  Lieverlee  looked  at  Johannes  very  sternly  and  critically, 
without  making  any  comment.  The  little  girls,  with  a  serious 
air,  said  :  "  How  lovely  I"   Mevrouw  laughed,  rather  nervously  : 

"  Oh,  oh  !  That  is  romantic.  Almost  piquant.  Then  let 
her  come,  but  in  the  clothing  that  belongs  to  her,  if  you 
please." 


THEQUEST  267 

"And  the  monkey,  Mama  ?  Will  the  monkey  come,  too  ?" 
asked  Olga,  the  elder. 

"Oh,  lovely,  lovely!"  cried  Frieda,  clapping  her  hands. 

"No,  children;  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  Of  course,  you 
understand,  Johannes,  that  the  monkey  cannot  come  with 
you.  He  would  have  a  very  bad  influence.  Would  he  not. 
Van  Lieverlee  ? " 

Van  Lieverlee  nodded  his  head  emphatically,  and,  with  an 
expressive  gesture  of  refusal,  said:  "It  would  simply  nullify 
all  the  higher  influences.  We  must  exclude  carefully  all  low 
and  impure  fluids.  The  monkey,  Johannes,  has  in  general  a 
very  low  and  unfavorable  aura,  or  inimical  sphere,  as  you 
may  always  perceive  from  his  fatal  odor." 

"It  would  make  me  ill,"  said  the  countess,  putting  her 
handkerchief  to  her  face  at  the  very  thought  of  it. 

So  Johannes  walked  home  that  evening,  proud  and  happy, 
with  his  head  full  of  brilliant  fancies;  but  at  the  same  time 
burdened  with  a  charge  —  a  message  to  Marjon  —  which 
grew  more  and  more  heavy  as  the  distance  between  him  and  the 
grand  hotel  increased,  and  the  distance  between  him  and  the 
small  lodging-house  lessened. 


XVII 

You  will  be  sure  to  think  matters  went  hard  that  night,  in  the 
rank  little  room,  and  that  there  was  a  scene  between  Marjon 
and  Johannes,  involving  many  tears.  If  so,  this  time  you 
have  made  a  mistake. 

Even  before  he  reached  the  house,  the  task  had  become  too 
difficult  for  him.  When  he  saw  Marjon,  with  her  stolid  face, 
sitting  as  she  probably  had  been  sitting  the  entire  evening  — 
listless  and  lonely,  his  own  joyful  excitement  vanished,  and 
with  it  went  the  inclination  to  be  outspoken  and  communi- 
cative. He  well  knew  in  advance  that  he  should  meet  with 
no  response  nor  interest.  And  what  chance  would  there  be 
of  inducing  Marjon  to  give  up  Keesje  for  the  Pleiades,  so  long 
as  he  could  not  convey  to  her  even  the  slightest  spark  of  that 
ardent  admiration  for  the  beautiful  and  worthy  of  which  he 
himself  had  become  conscious. 

Therefore,  he  said  nothing,  and,  as  Marjon  asked  no  ques- 
tions, they  went  calmly  and  peacefully  to  sleep.  Johannes, 
however,  first  lay  awake  a  long  time,  musing  over  the  splendid 
worldly  conquest  he  had  made,  and  the  distressing  difficulties 
into  which  it  had  led  him.  Marjon  would  not  go  with  him, 
that  was  certain;  and  ought  he  to  desert  her  again  f  Or  must 
he  renounce  all  that  beauty  —  the  most  beautiful  of  all  things 
he  had  found  in  the  world  I 

You  must  not  suppose,  however,  that  he  had  such  great 
expectations  from  what  Van  Lieverlee  had  pictured  to  him. 
Although  looking  up  with  intelligent  respect  to  one  so  much 
older  than  himself,  so  elegant  and  superior  in  appearance, 
and  who  professed  to  be  so  traveled,  well  read,  and  eloquent, 
Johannes  in  this  instance  was  clever  enough  to  see  that  not  all 
was  gold  that  glittered. 

But  the  two  dear  little  girls  and  their  beautiful  mother 
drew  him  with  an  irresistible  force.     If  there  was  anything 

268 


THEQUEST  269 

good  and  fine  in  this  world,  it  was  here„  Should  he  turn  away 
so  long  as  he  could  cling  to  it  ?  Had  the  supremely  good 
Father  ever  permitted  him  to  see  more  beautiful  creatures  ? 
and  should  he  esteem  any  faith  more  holy  than  faith  in  the 
Father  of  whom  Markus  had  taught  him,  and  who  only  made 
himself  known  through  the  beauty  of  his  creation  ? 

The  following  day  he  found  himself  no  nearer  a  solution  of 
his  difficulties.  Marjon  still  asked  no  questions,  and  gave 
him  no  opportunity  to  tell  anything. 

Keesje  sipped  his  sweetened  coffee  out  of  Marjon's  saucer 
with  much  noisy  enjoyment,  carefully  wiping  out  what  re- 
mained with  his  flat  hand,  and  licking  it  off,  while  he  kept 
sending  swift  glances  after  more,  as  calmly  and  peacefully  as 
if  the  Pleiades  and  the  higher  knowledge  had  no  existence. 

How,  then,  could  Johannes  now  accompany  her  to  their 
daily  work  ?  He  did  not  feel  himself  in  a  condition  to  do  so; 
and,  since  they  had  received  six  marks  extra,  the  day  before, 
he  said  he  was  going  out  to  take  a  walk,  alone,  in  order  to 
think.  "Perhaps  I  may  come  home  with  a  new  poem,"  said 
he.  But  he  had  slight  hope  of  doing  so.  He  would  be  so 
glad  if  he  could  find  a  way  out  of  his  difficulties.  He  went  to 
seek  help  in  the  mountains.  Was  there  not  there  an  unde- 
filed  bit  of  nature,  the  same  as  on  the  dunes  of  his  native  land 
—  beside  the  sea  ? 

Marjon's  pale  face  wore  a  really  sorrowful  look,  because  he 
wanted  to  go  without  her.  Her  obstinacy  gave  way,  and  she 
would  have  liked  to  question  him,  but  she  held  herself  loftily 
and  said:  "Have  your  fling,  but  don't  get  lost." 

Johannes  went  up  the  mountain  path  where  he  had  first 
seen  the  two  little  girls.  It  was  a  still,  beautiful  September 
day  —  a  little  misty.  Here  and  there,  beneath  the  underwood, 
the  ferns  had  become  all  brown;  and  the  blackberries,  wet 
with  dew,  were  glistening  along  his  way  amid  their  red-bor- 
dered leaves.     How  many  spider-webs  there  were  amidst  the 


270  THE    GUEST 

foliage!  There  was  a  solemn  stillness  over  all;  but,  as  Jo- 
hannes climbed  farther  up  the  mountain  dell,  he  heard  the 
constant  rushing  of  water,  and  in  the  small  mountain  meadows 
• —  the  open  places  in  the  woods  —  he  saw  many  little  rivulets 
glistening  in  the  grass,  gurgling  and  murmuring  as  they  flowed. 

Still  farther,  where  the  woods  were  denser  and  the  moun- 
tains more  lonely,  he  heard  now  and  then  the  sound  of  a 
fleeing  deer;  and  he  saw  too  a  fine  roe,  with  fear-filled  eyes 
and  large  ears  directed  toward  himself  from  the  forest's 
edge. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  narrow  path  bordering  a  small  brook. 
To  right  and  left  were  dark  rocks  glistening  with  moisture 
and  beautifully  overgrown  with  fantastic  lichens;  and  there 
were  little  rosette-like  clumps  of  ferns,  and  exquisite,  graceful 
maiden-hair,  gently  quivering  in  the  spray  of  the  waterfall. 
Higher  up  began  the  overhanging  underwood,  and  thorny 
bramble-bushes,  while  only  now  and  then  were  there  glimpses 
of  the  steep  mountain  sides,  with  the  knotty  roots  of  dense 
.  firs  and  beeches. 

There  seemed  no  end  to  that  path.  It  wound  all  through 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  following  the  brook  —  sometimes 
crossing  it  by  a  couple  of  stepping-stones,  and  thence  again 
continuing  to  the  other  bank.  And  it  grew  stiller  in  the 
mountains.  The  blue  sky  above  could  seldom  be  seen,  and 
the  sunlight  sifted  only  dimly  through  the  leaves  of  the  moun- 
tain ash  and  the  hazel  tree.  Tall  digitalis,  with  its  rows  of 
red  and  yellow  bells,  looked  down  upon  Johannes  out  of  the 
shadowy  depths  of  the  thicket  with  venomous  regard,  as 
if  threatening  him. 

Where  was  he  .''  An  agitation,  half  anxious,  half  delightful, 
took  possession  of  him.  It  was  like  Windekind's  wonderland 
here! 

He  went  on  and  on,  wondering  how  much  farther  he  could 
go  without  there  being  a  change.  He  grew  very  tired,  and 
then  quite  distressed. 

Out  of  the  general  stillness  a  vague,  indefinable  sound  now 


THEQUEST  271 

proceeded.  At  first  it  seemed  to  be  the  throbbing  and  rush- 
ing of  his  blood,  and  the  heart-beats  in  his  ears;  but  it  was 
stronger  and  more  distinct  —  a  roaring,  with  an  undertone  of 
melancholy  moaning  like  continuous  thunder  or  ocean  surf, 
constant  and  regular,  and,  also,  a  higher  note  sounding  by  fits 
and  starts,  like  the  ringing  of  bells  borne  by  a  high  wind. 

And  listen!  A  sound  loud  as  the  report  of  a  cannon,  making 
the  ground  tremble! 

Johannes  ran  about  in  his  agitation,  looking  on  all  sides. 
But  there  was  no  wind  —  every  leaflet,  every  blade  of  grass, 
was  still  as  death.  The  sound  of  water,  alone  —  the  rush  of 
water  —  grew  louder! 

Then  he  saw,  in  front  of  him,  the  small  cascade  which 
caused  the  sound.  The  brook  was  flowing  over  the  face  of 
a  rock,  down  amid  the  ferns.  The  path  seemed  to  come  to 
an  end,  and  lose  itself  in  the  darkness. 

Behind  the  waterfall,  hidden  by  the  foaming  flow  as  by  a 
veil,  was  a  grotto,  and  the  path  entered  it. 

And  now  Johannes  heard  the  sounds  clearly  —  as  if 
they  were  coming  out  of  the  earth:  the  deep  resounding, 
the  short  intermittent  thunderclaps,  and  the  ringing  of  bells 

—  incessant  and  regular. 

He  sat  down  beside  the  path  much  agitated,  and  panting 
from  his  rapid  movement,  and  gazed  through  the  veil  of  water 
into  the  cool,  dark  grotto.  He  sat  there  a  long  time,  listening, 
hesitating,  not  knowing  whether  to  venture  farther  or  to  turn 
back. 

And  slowly  —  slowly  —  a  great  mysterious  sadness  began 
to  steal  over  him.  He  saw,  too,  that  the  mists  were  still  rising 
from  the  valley,  and  that  a  mass  of  dark  grey  clouds  was 
silently  taking  the  place  of  the  glad  sunlight. 

Then  he  heard  near  him  a  slight  sound  —  a  soft,  sad  sighing 

—  a  slight,  gentle  wailing  —  a  helpless  sobbing. 

And,  sitting  on  the  rock  next  to  him  he  saw  his  little  friend 
Wistik.  He  was  looking  straight  at  Wistik's  little  bald  head, 
with  its  thin  grey  hair.     The  poor  fellow  had  taken  off  his  little 


272  THEQUEST 

red  cap,  and  was  holding  it,  with  both  hands,  up  to  his  face. 
He  was  sobbing  and  snivehng  into  it  as  if  his  heart  would 
break,  and  the  tears  were  trickling  down  his  long,  pointed 
beard  to  the  ground. 

"Wistik!"  cried  Johannes,  filled  with  pity  and  distress. 
"What  is  it,  little  friend  —  my  good  mannikin  ?  What  is  the 
matter  ?" 

But  Wistik  shook  his  head.  He  was  crying  so  hard  he 
could  not  speak. 

At  last  he  controlled  himself,  took  his  cap  wet  with  tears 
away  from  his  face,  and  put  it  on  his  head.  Then,  sobbing 
and  hiccoughing,  he  slid  from  his  seat,  and  stepped  upon  the 
stone  in  the  brook.  With  both  hands  he  grasped  the  sparkling 
veil  of  falling  water,  tore  a  broad  rent  in  it,  turned  round  his 
whimpering  little  face,  and  silently  beckonea  Johannes  to 
follow  him. 

The  latter  went  through  the  dark  fissure  while  Wistik  held 
the  water  aside,  and  reached  the  interior  quite  dry.  Not  a 
drop  fell  upon  his  head.  Then  they  went  farther  into  the 
cavern,  Wistik  taking  the  lead,  for  he  was  used  to  the  darkness 
and  knew  the  way.  Johannes  followed,  holding  him  by 
the  coat. 

It  was  totally  dark,  and  continued  so  a  long  time  while  they 
walked  on,  perceptibly  downward,  over  the  smooth,  hard  way. 

The  sombre  sounds  grew  louder  and  louder  about  them. 
The  echoing,  the  peals  of  thunder,  the  ringing  of  bells  —  all 
these  overwhelmed  now  the  babbling  of  the  water. 

In  the  distance  the  light  was  shining  —  a  grey  twilight,  pale 
as  the  misty  morning.  The  day  shone  in,  making  the  wet 
stones  glimmer  with  a  feeble  sheen.  A  tumultuous  noise  now 
penetrated  the  rocky  passage,  and  the  screaming  and  bellow- 
ing of  the  wind-storm  greeted  the  ear. 

Soon  they  were  standing  outside,  in  sombre  daylight.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  seen  save  a  desolate  heap  of  mighty  rocks, 
grizzly  and  water-stained.  No  plant  —  not  a  blade  of  grass 
—  was  growing  in  its  midst. 


THEQUEST  273 

Just  before  them  an  angry  sea  was  roaring  and  raving, 
casting  great  breakers  upon  the  strand.  Once  in  a  while  Jo- 
hannes saw  the  white  foam  tossing  high.  Great,  quivering 
flakes  were  torn  away  by  the  storm,  and  driven  from  rock  to 
rock. 

Iron-grey  clouds,  in  ragged  patches,  were  chasing  along 
the  heavens,  transforming  themselves  as  they  sped.  They 
scudded  close  to  the  boiling  sea,  and  the  white  foam  torn  from 
the  mighty  breakers  seemed  almost  to  touch  them.  The 
earth  trembled  as  the  waves  broke  on  the  rocks,  and  the  wind 
howled  and  shrieked  and  whistled  amid  the  uproar,  like  the 
baying  of  a  dog  at  the  moon,  or  the  yell  of  a  man  in  des- 
peration. 

Wherever  the  dark  clouds  were  torn  apart  an  alarmingly 
livid  night  sky  was  exposed. 

Oppressed  by  the  high  wind,  blinded  by  the  spray,  Johannes 
sought  shelter  with  Wistik  in  the  lee  of  a  rock,  and  looked 
away,  over  the  open  country. 

It  appeared  to  be  evening.  Over  the  sea,  but  at  the  ex- 
treme left,  where  Johannes  had  never  seen  it,  the  sunlight 
was  visible.  For  one  instant  the  face  of  the  sun  itself  could 
be  seen  —  sad,  and  red  as  blood  —  not  far  from  the  horizon. 
Beneath  it,  like  pillars  of  glowing  brass,  the  rays  of  light 
streamed  down  to  rest  upon  the  sea. 

And  now  and  then,  on  the  other  side,  high  up  in  the  ashen 
sky,  appeared  the  pale  face  of  the  moon  —  deathly  pale, 
hopelessly  sad,  motionless  and  resigned  —  in  the  midst  of  the 
furious  troop  of  clouds. 

Johannes  looked  at  his  friend  in  indescribable  anguish. 

"Wistik,  what  is  this.''  Where  are  we?  What  is  happen- 
ing ?  —  Wistik!" 

But  Wistik  shook  his  head,  lifted  up  his  swollen  eyes  toward 
the  sky,  and,  in  mute  anguish,  clenched  his  fists. 

Above  the  roar  of  wind  and  sea  could  still  be  heard  the 
deep-toned  sound,  like  the  report  of  cannon  or  the  booming 
of  bells.     Johannes    looked    around.     Behind    him    rose   the 


274  THEQUEST 

mountains  —  black  and  menacing  —  their  proud,  heaven- 
hi<Th  heads  confronting  the  rushing  swirl  of  clouds  that  were 
piled  up,  miles  high,  into  a  rounded  black  mass.  At  times  it 
litrhtened  vividly  and  then  followed  a  frightful  peal  of  thunder. 
And  when  one  of  the  highest  peaks  was  freed  from  its  mantle 
of  mists,  Johannes  saw  that  it  was  afire  with  a  steady,  orange- 
colored  glow  which  grew  ever  fiercer  and  whiter. 

The  tolling  of  bells  came  from  every  direction,  as  if 
thousands  on  thousands  of  cathedral  bells  were  ringing  in 
unison. 

Then  Wistik  and  Johannes  took  their  way  inland,  clam- 
bering over  the  jagged  rocks,  clinging  to  each  other  in  the 
wild  wind.  The  sea  thundered  still  louder,  and  the  wind 
whistled  as  if  in  utter  frenzy  —  like  an  imprisoned  maniac 
tugging  at  his  bars. 

"It  is  no  use,"  wailed  Wistik.  "It  is  no  use.  He  is  dead, 
dead,  dead!" 

Then  Johannes  heard  the  winds  speaking  as  he  had  for- 
merly heard  the  flowers  and  animals  talk. 

"  He  shall  live  !  "  shrieked  the  Wind;  "  I  will  not  let  him 
die!" 

And  the  Sea  spoke  :  *'  Them  that  menace  him  shall  I  de- 
stroy—  his  enemies  devour.  The  hills  shall  I  grind  to  powder, 
and  all  animals  o'erwhelm." 

Then  spoke  the  Mountain  :  "  It  is  too  late.  The  time  is 
fulfilled.      He  is  dead." 

Now  Johannes  knew  what  it  was  the  bells  were  sound- 
ing. They  cried  through  all  the  earth,  and  the  darkened 
heavens  : 

"  Pan  is  dead  !      Pan  is  dead  !  " 

And  the  pale  Moon  spoke  softly  and  plaintively  : 

"Alas!  poor  earth  !     Where  now  is  thy  beauty?     Now  shall 

we  weep — weep — weep  !" 

Finally,  the  Sun  also  spoke  :   "  The  Eternal  changes   not. 

A  new  day  has  come.      Be  resigned." 


THEQUEST  275 

And  all  at  once  it  grew  still — perfectly  still.  The  wind  went 
suddenly  down.  The  air  was  so  motionless  that  the  irides- 
cent foam-bubbles  floated  hither  and  thither  as  if  uncertain 
where  to  alight. 

A  silence,  full  of  dread,  oppressed  the  whole  dreary  land. 

The  waste  of  waters  only,  could  not  so  suddenly  subside, 
and  still  pounded  in  heavy  rollers  upon  the  shore. 

But  it  also  grew  still  and  calm — so  calm  that  the  sun  and 
the  moon  were  reflected  in  it,  as  perfectly  as  in  a  mirror. 

The  thunder  was  silenced  about  the  volcano,  and  every- 
thing was  waiting.      But  the  bells  pealed  on,  loud  and  clear: 

"  Pan  is  dead  !      Pan  is  dead  I  " 

And  now  the  clouds  formed  a  dark,  fleecy  layer  above  the 
mountains  —  soft  and  black,  like  mourning  crepe.  From  it 
there  fell  perpendicularly  a  fine  rain,  as  if  the  heavens 
were  shedding  silent  tears. 

The  air  was  clearer  above  the  sea,  and  moon  and  evening 
star  stood  bright  against  a  pale,  greenish  sky.  Glowing  in  a 
cloudless  space,  the  red  sun  was  nearing  the  horizon.  When 
Johannes  turned  away  and  looked  toward  the  mountains, 
now  veiled  in  leaden  mists,  a  marvelous  double  rainbow,  with 
its  brilliant  colors,  was  spanning  the  ashen  land. 

Out  of  a  deep  valley  that  cleft  the  mountains  like  the  gash 
of  a  sword,  and  upon  whose  sides  Johannes  thought  to  have 
seen  dark  forests,  approached  a  long,  slow-moving  procession. 

Strange,  shadowy  figures  like  large  night-moths  hovered 
and  floated  before  it,  and  flew  silently  like  phantoms  beside 
it. 

Then  came  gigantic  animals  with  heavy,  cautious  tread  — 
elephants  with  swaying  trunks  and  shufiiing  hide,  their 
bony  heads  rolling  up  and  down;  rhinoceri,  with  heads  held 
low,  and  glittering,  ill-natured  eyes;  snuffling,  snorting  hippo- 
potami, with  their  watery,  cruel  glances;  indolent,  sullen 
monsters  with  flabby-fleshed  bodies  supported  by  slim  little 
legs;  serpents,  large  and  small,  gliding  and  zig-zagging  over 
the  ground  like  an  oncoming  flood;  herds  of  deer  and  ante- 


276  THEQUEST 

lopes  and  gazelles  —  all  of  them  distressed  and  frightened, 
and  jostling  one  another;  troops  of  buffaloes  and  cattle,  push- 
ing and  thrusting;  lions  and  tigers,  now  creeping  stealthily, 
then  bounding  lightly  up  over  the  turbulent  throng,  as  fishes, 
chased  from  below,  spring  out  of  the  undulating  water;  and 
round  about  the  procession,  thousands  of  birds  —  some  of 
them  with  slow,  heavy  wing-strokes  —  alighting  at  times  upon 
the  rocks  by  the  wayside;  others,  incessantly  on  the  wing, 
circling  and  swaying,  back  and  forth  and  up  and  down;  finally, 
myriads  of  insects  —  bees  and  beetles,  flies  and  moths  —  like 
great  clouds,  grey  and  white  and  varicolored,  all  in  ceaseless 
motion. 

And  every  creature  in  the  throng  which  could  make  a 
sound  made  lamentation  after  its  own  fashion.  The  loudest 
was  the  worried,  smothered  lowing  of  the  cattle,  the  howling 
and  barking  of  the  wolves  and  hyenas,  and  the  shrill,  quivering 
"oolooloo"  of  the  owls. 

The  whole  was  one  volume  of  voiced  sorrow  —  an  over- 
whelming cry  of  woe  and  lamentation,  rising  above  a  con- 
tinual, sombre  humming  and  buzzing. 

"This  is  only  the  vanguard,"  said  Wistik,  whose  despair 
had  calmed  a  little  at  the  sight  of  this  lively  spectacle.  "These 
are  only  the  animals  yet.     Now  the  animal-spirits  are  coming." 

Then,  in  a  great  open  space  respectfully  avoided  by  all  the 
animals,  came  a  group  of  wonderful  figures.  All  had  the 
shapes  of  animals,  only  they  were  larger  and  more  perfectly 
formed.  They  seemed  also  to  be  much  more  proud  and 
sagacious,  and  they  moved  not  by  means  of  feet  and  wings, 
but  floated  like  shadows,  while  their  eyes  and  heads  seemed 
to  emit  rays  of  light,  like  the  sea  on  a  dark  night. 

"Come  up  nearer,"  said  Wistik.     "They  know  us." 

And  it  really  seemed  to  Johannes  as  if  the  ghosts  of  the 
animals  greeted  them,  sadly  and  solemnly;  but  only  those  of 
the  animals  known  to  him  in  his  native  land.  And  what  most 
impressed  him  was  that  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  were 
not  those  esteemed  most  highly  by  human  beings. 


THE   QUEST  277 

"  Oh,  look  !  Wistik,  are  those  the  butterfly-spirits  ?  How 
big  and  handsome  they  are  !  " 

They  were  splendid  creatures  —  large  as  a  house  —  with 
radiant  eyes,  and  their  bodies  and  wings  were  clearly  marked 
in  brilliant  colors.  But  the  wings  of  all  of  them  were  drooping 
as  though  with  weariness,  and  they  looked  at  Johannes  seriously, 
silently. 

"  Are  there  plant-spirits,  too,  Wistik  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  yes,  Johannes,  but  they  are  very  large  and  vague  and 
elusive.      Look!      There  they  come  —  floating  along." 

And  Wistik  pointed  out  to  him  the  hurrying,  hazy  figures 
that  Johannes  had  first  seen  in  front  of  the  procession. 

"Now  he  is  coming!  Now  he  is  coming!  Oh!  Oh! 
Oh  !  "  wailed  Wistik,  taking  off  his  cap  and  beginning  to 
cry  again. 

Surrounded  by  throngs  of  weeping  nymphs  who  were  singing 
a  soft  and  sorrowful  dirge  —  their  arms  intertwined  about  one 
anothers'  shoulders  —  their  faded  wreaths  and  long  hair  drip- 
ping with  the  rain  —  came  the  great  bier  of  rude  boughs 
whereon  lay  Father  Pan,  hidden  beneath  ivy  and  poppies  and 
violets.  He  was  borne  by  young,  brawny-muscled  fauns, 
whose  ruddy  faces,  bowed  at  their  task,  were  distorted  with 
suppressed  sobs.  In  the  rear  was  a  throng  of  grave  centaurs, 
shuffling  mutely  along,  their  heads  upon  their  chests,  now  and 
then  striking  their  trunks  and  flanks  with  their  rough  fists, 
making  them  sound  like  drums. 

Curled  up,  as  if  he  intended  to  stay  there,  a  little  squirrel 
was  lying  on  the  hairy  breast  of  Pan.  A  robin  redbreast  sat 
beside  his  ear,  mournfully  and  patiently  coaxing,  coaxing 
incessantly,  in  the  vague  hope  that  he  might  still  hear.  But 
the  broad,  good-natured  face  with  its  kindly  smile  never 
stirred. 

When  Johannes  saw  that,  and  recognized  his  good  Father 
Pan,  he  burst  into  tears  which  he  made  no  effort  to  restrain. 

"Now  the  monsters  are  coming,"  whispered  Wistik.  "The 
monsters  of  the  primal  world." 


278  THEOUEST 

Ugh!  That  was  a  spectacle  to  turn  one  into  ice!  Dragons, 
and  horrid  shapes  bigger  than  ten  elephants,  with  frightful 
horns  and  teeth,  and  armor  of  spikes;  long,  powerful  necks, 
having  upon  them  small  heads  with  large,  dull  eyes  and  sharp 
teeth;  and  pale,  grey-green  and  black,  sometimes  dark-red 
or  emerald-green,  spots  on  the  deeply  wrinkled,  knotty  or 
shiny  skin.  All  these  now  went  past  with  awkward  jump  or 
trailing  body;  most  of  the  time  mute,  but  sometimes  making  a 
gruff,  quickly  uttered,  far-sounding  howl.  And  then  odd 
creatures  like  reddish  bats,  having  hooked  beaks  and  curved 
claws,  flashed  through  the  air  with  their  black  and  yellow 
wings,  chattering  and  clumsily  floundering  in  their  flight. 

At  last,  when  the  entire  multitude  had  come  to  the  broad, 
rocky  strand,  thousands  upon  thousands  of  little  and  big 
rings  were  circling  over  the  mirror-like  surface  of  the  water, 
as  far  as  eye  could  see;  swift  dolphins  sprang  in  and  out  of  the 
water,  in  graceful  curves;  pointed,  dorsal  fins  of  sharks  and 
brown-fish  cut  the  smooth  surface  swiftly,  in  straight  lines, 
leaving  behind  them  widely  diverging  furrows.  The  mighty 
heads  of  shining  black  whales  pushed  the  water  from  in  front 
of  them,  spouting  out  white  streams  of  vapor  with  a  sound 
like  that  of  escaping  steam. 

The  sun  neared  the  horizon,  the  rain  ceased  falling,  and 
the  mists  melted  away,  disclosing  other  stars.  Above  the  crater 
of  the  mountain  stretched  a  dark  plume  of  smoke,  and  beneath 
it  the  fire  now  glowed  calmly,  at  white  heat. 

Then  all  that  din  of  turbulent  life  grew  fainter  and  fainter, 
until  nothing  was  audible  save  a  faint  sighing  and  wailing. 
At  last  —  utter  silence. 

The  bier  of  Pan  was  resting  upon  the  seashore,  encircled 
by  all  the  living. 

The  red  rays  of  the  sun  lighted  up  the  great  corpse,  the 
tree-trunks  upon  which  it  rested,  and  the  dark  heaps  of  withered 
leaves  and  flowers.  But  also  they  shot  up  the  mountain 
heights,  sparkling  and  flaming  in  glory  there  —  over  the  rigid, 
basaltic  rocks. 


THE    yU  EST  279 

Wistik  stared  at  the  red-reflecting  mountain-top,  with  great, 
wide-open  eyes,  and  a  pale,  startled  little  face,  and  then  cried 
in  a  smothered  voice: 

"Kneel,  Johannes,  Kneel!  She  comes!  Our  holy  Mother 
comes!" 

Trembling  with  awe,  Johannes  waited  expectantly. 

He  could  not  begin  to  comprehend  that  which  he  saw. 
Was  it  a  cloud  .?  a  blue-white  cloud  .''  But  why  was  it  not  red, 
in  the  glow  of  that  sunset.^  Was  it  a  glacier?  But  look! 
The  blue-and-white  came  falling  down  like  an  avalanche  of 
snow.  Steel-blue  lightning  flashed  in  sharp  lines  upon  the 
red  mountain-side. 

Then  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  descending  vapor  was  di- 
vided. The  larger  part,  and  darker  —  that  at  the  left  —  was 
blue,  and  blue-green;  that  at  the  right,  a  brilliant  white. 

He  saw  distinctly  now.  Two  figures  were  there,  in  shining, 
luminous  garments;  and  the  light  of  them  was  not  dimmed  by 
the  splendor  of  that  setting  sun.  Rays  of  green  shone  from 
the  garment  of  the  larger,  but  around  the  head  was  an  aureole 
of  heavenly  blue.     The  other  was  clothed  in  lustrous  white. 

They  were  so  great  —  so  awful!  And  they  swept  from  the 
mountain  in  an  instant  of  time,  as  a  dove  drops  from  out  a 
tree-top  down  upon  the  field! 

When  they  stood  beside  the  bier,  Johannes  looked  into  the 
face  of  the  larger  figure,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  as  near  and 
dear  to  him  as  a  mother.  It  was  indeed  his  mother  —  Mother 
Earth. 

She  looked  upon  the  dead,  and  blessed  him.  She  looked 
at  all  the  living  ones,  and  mused  upon  them.  Then  she 
looked  into  the  face  of  the  sun  ere  it  disappeared,  and  smiled. 

Turning  toward  the  volcano,  she  beckoned.  The  side  of 
the  crater  burst  open  with  a  report  like  thunder,  and  a  seething 
stream  of  lava  shot  down  like  lightning. 

After  that  everything  was  night,  and  gloom,  and  darkness 
to  Johannes.  He  saw  the  bier  on  fire  —  consumed  to  a  pile 
of  burning  coals  —  and  the  thick,  black  smoke  enveloped  him. 


28o  THEOUEST 

But  also  he  saw,  last  of  all,  the  shining  white  figure  moving 
beside  Mother  Earth,  irradiating  the  night  and  the  smoke. 
He  saw  Him  coming;  ^ — bendino-  down  to  him  His  radiant  face 
until  it  embraced  the  entire  heavens. 

Then  he  recognized  his  Guide. 


PART    III 


I 

The  warm  tears  for  Father  Pan  were  still  flowing  down  his 
cheeks,  when  Johannes  Hfted  up  his  eyes  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  awake.  That  which  met  his  gaze  was  exactly 
what  he  had  last  seen  —  the  comforting  face  of  his  exalted 
Brother  enveloped  by  a  dun  swirl  of  smoke.  But  now  it  looked 
different,  or  else  it  was  perceived  through  another  sense  — 
like  the  same  story  told  in  another  tongue  —  like  the  same 
music  played  upon  an  instrument  of  different  timbre:  neither 
finer  nor  more  effective,  but  simpler  and  more  sober. 

He  found  himself  sitting  on  the  slope  of  a  mountain,  and 
saw  Markus  bending  over  him.  The  sun  had  set,  and  the 
valley  lay  in  twilight,  yet  in  the  dusk  one  could  see  the  glow 
of  fiery  furnaces  —  could  see  tall  factory-chimneys  out  of 
whose  huge  throats  there  rolled  great  billows  of  murky  smoke, 
like  dirty  wool.  The  whole  valley  and  everything  that  grew 
on  the  mountain-side  was  smirched  with  black.  A  constant 
humming  and  buzzing,  pounding  and  resounding,  rose  up 
from  that  city  of  bare,  blackened  buildings.  At  intervals 
there  flared  up  from  the  furnace  bluish  yellow  and  violet 
flam.es,  like  glowing,  streaming  pennants.  The  land  looked 
gloomy  and  desolate,  as  if  laid  waste  by  lava;  yet  now 
and  then,  as  a  rotary  oven  belched  out  a  flood  of  brilliant 
sparks,  the  grey  air  was  lighted  up  for  miles  beyond. 

"Markus,"  said  Johannes,  his  heart  still  heavy  with  sorrow, 
"Pan  is  dead!" 

"Pan  is  dead!"  said  Markus  in  return.  "But  your  Brother 
ives. 

"Thank  God  for  that.     What  brought  you  here?" 

"I  am  among  the  miners,  Johannes,  and  the  factory  oper- 
atives.    They  need  me." 

"Oh,  my  Brother!  I  too  need  you.  I  do  not  know  where 
in  the  world  to  go  .  .  .  and  Pan  is  dead!" 

283 


284  THEQUEST 

Johannes  embraced  the  right  arm  of  Markus,  and  rested 
his  head  against  his  Brother's  shoulder.  Thus  sitting,  he  was 
a  long  time  silent. 

He  gazed  at  the  clouded  valley  with  its  colossal  mine-wheel, 
the  black  chimneys  and  ovens,  the  black,  yellow,  and  blue- 
white  wreaths  of  vapor,  the  great  iron  sheds,  and  the  many- 
windowed  buildings  devoid  of  ornament  and  color. 

All  about  him  he  could  see  the  sides  of  the  mountains  severed 
as  by  great,  gaping  wounds;  the  trees  prostrate;  all  nature, 
with  its  beautiful  verdure,  burned  to  cinders;  and  the  rocks 
cleft  and  crushed.  Upon  the  top  of  the  mountain,  at  the  very 
edge  of  the  chasm  —  an  excavation  resembling  the  hole  made 
by  fruit-devouring  wasps  —  several  pine-trees  were  still  stand- 
ing. But  these  last  children  of  the  forest  were  also  soon  to 
fall.  And  in  the  distance  the  echo  of  explosions  reverberated 
through  the  mountains,  followed  by  the  loud  sounds  of  falling 
stones,  as  the  rocks  were  shattered  with  dynamite. 

"Pan  is  dead!"  His  beautiful  wonderland  was  being  de- 
stroyed; and  in  the  new  life  which  was  to  be  founded  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  old  one,  Johannes  knew  not  where  to  go.  He 
was  frightened  and  bewildered. 

But  had  he  not  found  his  Brother  again,  and  for  the  second 
time  beheld  him  in  a  glorified  form,  clothed  in  shining  raiment .? 
And  was  he  not,  even  now,  in  his  warm,  comforting  presence  ? 

The  thought  of  this  composed  and  strengthened  Johannes. 

"My  Brother,"  he  asked,  "who  killed  Pan?" 

"No  one.     His  time  had  come." 

"  But  why,  then,  was  he  so  sad  when  I  asked  him  about  you  ? " 

"The  flower  must  perish  if  the  fruit  is  to  ripen.  A  child 
cries  when  night  comes  and  it  is  time  to  sleep,  because  he 
wants  to  play  longer  and  does  not  know  that  rest  is  better  for 
him.  All  people  who  continue  to  be  like  children  cry  about 
death,  which  is  only  a  birth  and  full  of  joyful  anticipations." 

"Have  Pan  and  Windekind  known  you.  Brother?" 

"No,  but  they  have  feared  me,  as  the  lesser  fears  the 
greater." 


THEQUEST  285 

"Will  your  kingdom,  then,  be  more  beautiful  than  theirs?" 

"As  much  more  beautiful  as  the  sun  is  brighter  than  the 
moon.  But  the  weak,  the  frail  and  timid  ones  who  live  in  the 
night-time,  will  not  perceive  this,  and  will  fear  the  glorious 
sun. 

For  a  long  time  Johannes  thought  this  over.  In  the  far, 
smoky  valley  with  its  mines  and  factories,  a  clock  struck  — 
farther  away  another  —  in  the  distance  still  another.  There- 
upon followed  the  shrill  screaming  of  steam-whistles,  and  the 
loud  clanging  of  bells,  and  people  could  be  seen  pouring  out 
of  the  workshops. 

"How  gloomy!"  exclaimed  Johannes. 

Markus  smiled.  "The  black  seed  also,  in  the  dark  ground, 
is  gloomy,  yet  it  grows  to  be  a  glad  sunflower." 

"Brother,"  said  Johannes,  imploringly,  "advise  me  what  to 
do  now.     The  beautiful  is  of  the  Father,  is  it  not.^" 

"Yes,  Johannes." 

"Then  must  I  not  follow  after  that  which  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  I  have  found  in  this  human  world  ?     Do  tell  me!" 

"  I  only  tell  you  to  follow  the  Father's  voice  where  it  seems 
to  call  you  most  clearly." 

"And  what  if  I  am  in  doubt  V 

"Then  you  must  question,  fervently,  and,  still  as  a  flower, 
listen  with  all  your  heart." 

"But  if  I  must  act .?" 

"Then  do  not  for  an  instant  hesitate,  but  venture  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  trusting  in  your  own  and  His  love,  which 
is  one  and  the  same." 

"Then  suppose  I  make  a  mistake?" 

"You  might  do  that;  but  if  the  error  is  for  His  sake.  He  will 
open  your  understanding.  Only  when  you  fear  for  your  own 
sake,  and  forget  Him,  can  you  be  lost." 

"Show  me  then.  Brother,  what  your  way  is!" 

"Very  well,  Johannes.     Come  with  me." 

Together  they  descended  to  the  valley.     The  ground  was 


286  THEOUEST 

everywhere  black  —  black  with  coal  and  slag  and  ashes,  and 
the  puddles  of  water  were  like  ink. 

From  all  sides  came  the  sound  of  heavy  footfalls.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  black  town  would  empty  itself  of  all  its  people. 
Hundreds  of  men  ran  hither  and  thither,  all  of  them  with 
heavy,  weary,  yet  hurried  steps.  Apparently,  they  were  all 
running  over  one  another  —  each  one  in  the  others'  way  — 
but  yet  there  was  no  disorder,  for  each  seemed  to  know  where 
he  wished  to  go. 

Most  of  them  looked  black  —  completely  begrimed  with 
coal  and  smoke.  Their  hats  and  blouses  were  shiny  with 
blackish  water.  Usually  they  were  silent;  but  now  and  then 
they  called  to  one  another  roughly  and  to  the  point,  as  men 
do  who  have  spent  all  their  strength,  and  have  none  left  for 
talking  or  jesting. 

Several  were  already  leaving  the  wash-houses,  cleansed  and 
in  their  customary  sober  garments.  Their  freshly  washed 
faces  looked  conspicuously  pale  in  the  twilight,  amid  those  of 
their  unwashed  comrades  ;  but  their  eyes  bore  dark  rims  that 
could  not  be  cleaned. 

Johannes  and  Markus  went  past  the  mines,  the  coal  pits, 
and  the  smelting  works,  until  they  came  to  long  rows  of  little 
houses  where  the  families  of  the  laborers  lived.  Thitherward 
also  the  people  were  now  streaming.  Behind  the  small  win- 
dows where  wives  were  waiting  with  supper,  little  lights  began 
to  twinkle  everywhere. 

Markus  and  Johannes  entered  a  large,  dreary  hall  having 
a  low  wooden  ceiling.  In  the  front  part  of  it  two  lighted  gas- 
jets  were  flickering.  The  rest  of  the  place  was  in  semi-dark- 
ness. There  were  a  good  many  benches,  but  no  one  had  yet 
arrived.  The  walls  were  bare  and  besmirched,  and  upon 
them  were  several  mottoes  and  placards. 

For  a  half-hour  the  two  sat  there  without  speaking.  A 
dismal  impression  of  the  gloom  and  ugliness  of  this  abode 
took  possession  of  Johannes.  It  was  worse  than  the  tedium 
of  the  schoolhouse.     It  seemed  more  frightful  to  have  to  live 


THEQUEST  287 

here  than  in  the  wildest  and  most  desolate  spot  in  Pan's  do- 
minion. There  it  was  always  beautiful  and  grandiose,  though 
often  also  terrible.  Here  all  was  cramped,  uninteresting,  bare, 
and  ugly  —  the  horrors  of  a  nightmare,  the  most  frightful 
Johannes  had  ever  known. 

This  lasted  an  hour,  and  then  the  great  hall  gradually  filled 
with  laborers.  They  came  sauntering  in,  somewhat  em- 
barrassed, pipes  in  their  mouths,  hat  or  cap  on  head.  At 
first  they  remained  in  the  dark  background;  then,  seating 
themselves  here  and  there  upon  the  benches,  they  glanced  to 
right  and  left  and  backward,  occasionally  expectorating  upon 
the  floor.  Their  faces  looked  dull  and  tired,  and  the  hands 
of  most  of  them  —  rough  and  broad,  with  black-rimmed 
nails  —  hung  down  open.  They  talked  in  an  undertone,  at 
times  laughing  a  little.  Women  also  came  in  with  children  in 
their  arms.  Some  were  still  fresh  and  young,  with  a  bit  of 
color  about  their  apparel;  some,  delicate  little  mothers  in  a 
decline,  with  deformed  bodies,  sharp  noses,  pale  cheeks,  and 
hollow  eyes.  Others  were  coarse  vixens,  with  hard,  selfish 
looks  and  ways. 

The  hall  filled,  and  the  rows  of  faces  peered  through  the 
tobacco  smoke,  watching  and  waiting  for  what  was  to  take 
place. 

A  laborer  —  a  large,  robust  red-bearded  man — came  forward 
under  the  gaslight,  and  began  to  speak.  He  stammered  at 
first,  and  pushed  his  right  arm  through  the  air  as  if  he  were 
pumping  out  the  words.  But  gradually  he  grew  more  fluent ; 
and  the  hundreds  of  faces  in  the  hall  followed  his  attitudes 
and  gestures  with  breathless  interest,  until  one  could  see  his 
anger  and  his  laughter  reflected  as  if  in  a  mirror.  And  when 
he  broke  off  a  sentence  with  a  sharp,  explosive  inquiry,  then 
the  feet  began  to  shuffle  and  stamp  with  a  noise  which  some- 
times swelled  to  thunder,  in  the  midst  of  which  could  be  heard 
cries  of  "Yes!  Yes!"  while  laughing  faces,  and  looks  full  of 
meaning,  were  turned  hither  and  thither  as  if  searching  for, 
and  evincing,  approval. 


288  THEQUEST 

Johannes  did  not  very  well  understand  what  was  said.  He 
had,  indeed,  learned  German;  but  that  did  not  avail  him  much 
here,  on  account  of  the  volubility  of  the  speaker  and  his  use 
of  popular  idioms.  His  attention,  too,  was  given  as  much  to 
the  listeners  as  to  the  speaker. 

Nevertheless,  the  great  cause  which  was  being  agitated 
grew  more  and  more  clear  to  him. 

The  speaker's  enthusiasm  was  communicated  to  his 
audience,  becoming  intensified  a  hundred-fold,  until  a  great 
wave  of  emotion  swept  over  all  present,  Johannes  in- 
cluded. ' 

He  saw  faces  grow  paler,  and  observed  signs  of  heightened 
interest.  Eyes  began  to  glisten  more  and  more  brightly,  and 
lips  were  moving  involuntarily.  Now  and  then  a  child  began 
to  whimper.  But  it  disturbed  no  one.  On  the  contrary,  the 
orator  appeared  to  utilize  the  occurrence  for  his  own  purposes. 
Two  tears  rolling  down  the  ruddy  moustache  riveted  Johan- 
nes' attention,  and  he  heard  a  quiver  in  the  rough  voice  as  the 
speaker  pointed  with  both  hands  toward  the  wailing  infant, 
in  such  a  way  as  to  remove  from  the  incident  all  that  was  comic 
or  annoying. 

It  was  apparent  to  Johannes  that  these  people  suffered  an 
injustice;  that  they  were  about  to  resist;  and  that  this  resistance 
was  perilous  —  yes,  very  perilous  —  to  the  point  of  involving 
their  lives  and  their  subsistence,  and  also  that  of  their  wives 
and  children. 

He  could  see  the  evidences  of  long-suffered  injustice,  in 
their  passionate  looks  and  eager  gestures.  He  saw  breathless 
fear  at  the  thought  of  the  danger  which  menaced  them  and 
their  dear  ones  if  they  should  offer  resistance.  He  saw  the 
proud  glitter  in  their  eyes,  and  the  high-spirited  lifting  of  their 
heads  as  the  inner  struggle  was  decided,  and  heroism  tri- 
umphed over  fear.  They  would  fight  —  they  knew  it  now. 
The  great  rising  wave  of  courage  and  ardor  left  no  irresolute 
one  unmoved.  Johannes  looked  the  faces  over  very  carefully, 
but  there  was  not  one  upon  which   he   could  still   read  the 


THEQUEST  289 

traces  of  anxiety  and  hesitation.  One  kindled  soul  illumi- 
nated them  all,  like  a  mighty  fire. 

Then  Johannes'  soul  grew  ardent,  and  he  too  waxed  strong 
at  heart;  for  there  began  to  touch  him  the  first  rays  of  the 
beauty  which  lay  slumbering  beneath  that  sombre  veil  of 
ugliness. 

After  this  speaker  there  were  others,  who  rose  in  their  places 
without  coming  forward.  Not  one  of  them  hazarded  the 
quenching  of  the  sacred  fire.  They  all  spoke  of  the  coming 
struggle  as  of  an  inevitable  event.  But  Johannes,  with  a 
sensation  that  made  him  clench  his  fists  as  if  the  enemy's 
hand  were  already  at  his  throat,  now  saw  a  heavy,  burly  fellow 
stop,  stammering,  in  the  middle  of  his  speech,  and  begin  to 
sob;  not  from  fear  —  no!  —  but  from  keen  anger,  on  account 
of  suffered  scorn  and  humiliation,  and  because  of  the  insup- 
portable suspicion  that  he  had  been  disloyal  to  his  comrades. 
Johannes  guessed  the  details  of  that  story,  even  although  he 
did  not  understand  the  words.  The  man  had  been  deceived; 
and,  in  a  time  of  deep  misery,  when  his  wife  was  ill,  he  had 
been  seduced,  by  promises,  from  joining  his  comrades  in  this 
struggle. 

Johannes  was  glad  to  see  actions,  fine  in  themselves, 
proceed  from  a  burst  of  pure  emotion,  when  the  whole 
earnest  assemblage,  in  one  unanimous  spirit  of  generosity, 
forgave  the  seeming  traitor,  and  reinstated  him  in  their 
regard. 

And  as  the  workmen  were  about  to  take  their  leave,  with 
the  stern  yet  cheerful  earnestness  of  those  who  are  committed 
to  a  righteous  struggle,  Johannes  saw,  with  great  pleasure, 
that  Markus  was  going  to  speak.  They  knew  him,  and 
instantly  there  was  absolute  silence.  There  was  something 
in  the  pleased  readiness  with  which  these  German  miners 
took  their  places  again  to  listen  —  a  childlike  trust,  and 
a  good-natured  seriousness  —  that  Johannes  had  never  seen 
among  the  Fair-people;  no,  nor  anj^where  in  his  own 
country. 


290  THEOUEST 

As  Markus  spoke  German  with  the  careful  slowness  and 
the  purity  of  one  who  did  not  belong  to  the  land,  Johannes 
understood  it  all. 

"My  friends,"  said  Markus,  "you  have  been  taught  in  your 
schools  and  churches  of  a  Spirit  of  Truth,  which  was  to 
come  as  the  Comforter  of  mankind. 

"Well,  then,  this  which  has  now  taken  possession  of  you, 
and  which  has  strengthened  all  your  hearts  and  brightened 
all  your  eyes  —  even  this  is  the  Comforter,  the  Spirit  of  Truth, 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

"For  Truth  and  Righteousness  are  one,  and  proceed  from 
One.  From  your  cheerful  and  courageous  eyes  I  see  that  you 
know  surely,  with  a  full  conscience,  that  it  is  the  truth  which 
has  stirred  you,  and  that  you  are  to  risk  your  lives  in  the  cause 
of  justice. 

"And  that  this  spirit  is  a  Comforter  you  will  find  by  ex- 
perience; that  is,  if  you  are  loyal. 

"But  this  I  now  say  to  you,  because  you  do  not  know  as  I 
know,  that  truth  is  like  a  mountain-path  between  two  abysses, 
and  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  maintain  than  the  tone  of  a 
violin. 

"You  have  suffered  injustice;  but  you  have  also  committed 
injustice.  For  the  act  of  oppression  is  injustice,  and  it  is  also 
injustice  to  permit  oppression. 

"You  have  been  taught  otherwise,  and  have  been  told  it  is 
written  that  injustice  will  be  permitted.  But  even  if  this  were 
written,  the  Spirit  of  Truth  would  cause  it  to  be  erased.  I  say 
to  you  that  whoever  practices  injustice  is  an  evildoer,  and 
whoever  permits  injustice  is  his  accomplice. 

"There  is  a  pride  which  in  God's  eyes  is  an  honor  to  a 
man,  and  there  is  also  an  arrogance  which  will  cause  him  to 
stumble  and  to  be  crushed. 

"The  Spirit  of  Truth  says  this:  'Acquaint  yourselves  with 
your  own  value,  and  endure  no  slight  which  is  hostile  to  the 
truth.'  But  he  who  overestimates  himself  will  have  a  fall, 
and  God  will  not  lift  him  up." 


THEQUEST  291 

After  these  powerful  and  penetrating  words,  which  sounded 
like  a  threatening  admonition,  Markus  sat  down,  resting  his 
head  upon  his  hand.  After  waiting  awhile  in  silence,  the 
whispering  crowd  dispersed  with  shuffling  footsteps,  without 
having  made  a  sign  of  approval  or  acquiescence. 

"May  I  stay  with  you,  Markus?"  asked  Johannes,  softly, 
afraid  of  disturbing  his  guide.     Markus  looked  up  kindly. 

"How  about  your  little  comrade  .?"  he  asked.  "Would  she 
not  grow  uneasy  ?  Come  with  me.  I  will  show  you  the  way 
back  again." 

Together  they  found  the  way  in  the  night  through  the  woods 
to  the  little  resort  and  the  lodging-house.  But  excepting  an 
exchange  of  "Good-nights"  not  another  word  was  spoken. 
In  his  great  awe  of  him,  Johannes  dared  not  ask  Markus  how 
he  knew  all  about  his  adventures. 


II 

The  next  morning,  in  the  dirty  little  breakfast-room  of  the 
lodging-house,  there  mingled  with  the  usual  smell  of  fresh 
coffee  and  stale  tobacco  smoke  the  fragrance  of  wood-violets 
and  of  musk;  for  a  pale  lavender  note,  written  with  blue  ink, 
was  awaiting  Johannes. 

He  opened  it,  and  read  the  following: 

"Dearly  beloved  Soul-Brother: 

Come  to  me  to-day  as  soon  as  you  can,  upon  the  wings  of 
our  poet-friendship.  Countess  Dolores  w^ent  yesterday,  with 
her  little  daughters,  and  her  servants;  but  she  left  something 
for  you  which  will  make  you  happy,  and  which  I  myself  will 
place  in  your  hand. 

The  following  is  the  first  delicate  and  downy  fruit  of  our 
union  of  souls: 

HYMEN  MYSTICUM 

To  Little  Johannes 

In  solemn  state  swim  our  two  souls, 
Like  night-black,  mystic  swans, 
O'er  passion-seas  profoundly  deep  — 
Of  briny,  melancholy  tears. 

Oh!     Thou  supremely  bitter  ocean! 

All  wingless,  bear  we  with  us,  thro'  the  sky's  dark 

courses, 
Thy  ceaseless,  lily-sorrow  — 
And  the  fell  weio;ht  of  this  sad  world's  woe. 

Entwine  with  mine  thy  slender  throat,  my  brother, 

That,  swooning,  we  may  farther  swim. 

And  with  our  song  the  dazzled  race  amaze. 

292 


THEOUEST  293 

Let  us,  in  sensuous  tenderness, 

Like  faded  lilies  intertwine, 

With  a  death-sob  of  supremest  ecstasy. 

Would  not  your  friend  be  able  to  compose  music  for  this  ? 
And  I  hope  soon  to  know  her  better. 

Your  soul's  kinsman, 

Walter  v.  L.  T.  D. 
Kurhotel^  8th  Sept.  (Van  Lieverlee  tot  Endegeest). 

Just  here,  I  wish  I  could  say  that  Johannes  immediately  let 
Marjon  read  both  the  letter  and  the  verses,  and  that,  with  her, 
he  made  merry  over  them.  But  that,  alas  !  the  truth  will  not 
permit.  And  now,  for  the  sake  of  my  small  hero,  I  confess 
I  should  be  heartily  ashamed  if  I  thought  that  none  of  you, 
in  reading  the  above,  would  be  as  ingenuous  as  he  was, 
in  regarding  the  poem  with  the  utmost  seriousness  —  even 
hesitating,  like  himself,  to  doubt  its  quality,  concluding  that  it 
must  indeed  be  fine  though  a  little  too  high  for  understanding, 
and,  for  that  very  reason,  not  at  first  sight  so  very  striking  and 
intelligible. 

Are  you  certain  that  none  of  you  would  have  been  so  stupid 
as  to  be  deceived  by  it  ?  Quite  certain  ?  Well,  then,  please  do 
not  forget  how  youthful  Johannes  still  was;  and  consider, 
also,  the  wonderful  progress  of  the  age,  due,  no  doubt,  to 
the  zealous  and  untiring  efforts  of  our  numerous  literary 
critics. 

Johannes  did  not  mention  the  letter;  but  when  he  saw 
Marjon,  he  said: 

"I  saw  somebody,  yesterday.     Can  you  think  who  it  was  ?" 

Marjon's  pale,  dull  face  lighted  up  suddenly,  and  she 
stared  at  Johannes  with  fixed,  bright  eyes. 

"Markus!"  said  she.  Johannes  nodded  assent,  and  she 
continued: 

"Thank  God!  I  felt  it.  I  heard  that  the  laborers  about 
here  were  soon  to  go  on  a  strike,  and  then  I  supposed  — 
well  —  Now  everything  will  be  all  right  again!" 


294 


THE    GUEST 


Then  she  was  silent,  eating  her  bread  contentedly.  A 
little  later,  she  asked: 

"Where  are  you  going?  Is  it  far?  What  have  you  agreed 
to  do?" 

"I  have  settled  nothing,"  said  Johannes.  "But  I  will  go 
to  him  with  you  before  long.  It  is  not  far."  Then,  affect- 
ing to  make  light  of  it,  he  said:  "I  have  had  an  invitation  to 
the  hotel." 

"Gracious!"  said  Marjon,  under  her  breath.  "The 
deuce  is  to  pay  again." 

In  the  park  Johannes  met  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee.  He  stood 
on  the  grass  in  front  of  a  thicket  of  withered  shrubs,  gazing 
at  the  mountains;  and  was  clad  in  cream-white  flannel,  with 
a  bright-purple  silk  handkerchief  in  his  breast  pocket.  One 
hand  rested  upon  his  ebony  walking-stick;  with  the  other  — 
thumb  and  forefinger  pressed  together,  and  little  finger  ex- 
tended —  he  was  making  rhythmical  movements  in  the  air. 

When  he  saw  Johannes,  he  greeted  him  with  a  nod  and  a 
wink,  as  if  there  were  a  secret  understanding  between  them. 

"Superb!     Is  it  not  ?     Superb!" 

Johannes  did  not  exactly  know  what  he  meant  —  the  verses 
he  had  received,  the  mountains  opposite,  or  the  fine,  Septem- 
ber morning.     He  selected  the  most  obvious,  and  said: 

"Yes,  sir!     Glorious  weather!" 

Van  Lieverlee  gave  him  a  keen  look,  as  if  uncertain 
whether  or  not  he  was  being  made  sport  of,  and  then 
leisurely  remarked: 

"You  do  not  appear  to  be  impressed  by  the  combination 
of  white,  mauve,  and  golden  brown." 

Johannes  thought  himself  very  sensitive  to  the  effect  of 
color;  so  he  felt  ashamed  of  not  having  noticed  the  color-com- 
position. He  saw  it  now,  fully — the  white  flannel,  the  purple 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  the  faded,  yellow-brown  shrub. 
That  Van  Lieverlee  should  thus  include  himself  in  this  sym- 
phony of  color  seemed  to  him  in  the  highest  degree  pertinent. 


THE    QUEST 


295 


"I  was  engaged  in  making  a  'pant(3em'  in  harmony  with 
that  color-scheme,"  said  Van  Lieverlee;  and  then,  seeing  the 
blank  look  on  Johannes'  face,  he  added,  "Do  you  know  what 
a  'pantoem'  is  ?" 

"I  do  not,  sir." 

"Oh,  boy!  boy!  and  you  call  yourself  a  poet!  What  did 
you  receive  this  morning  ?     Do  you  know  what  that  is  ? " 

"A  sonnet,"  said  Johannes,  eagerly. 

"Is  that  so  ?     Did  you  think  it  a  fine  one  .?" 

That  was  a  disquieting  question.  Johannes  was  quite  at 
a  loss  about  it;  but  it  seemed  that  poets  were  wont  to  ask  such 
questions,  so  he  overcame  what  he  considered  his  childish- 
ness, and  said: 

"I  think  it  is  splendid!" 

"You  think  so!  Well,  I  know  it.  There  is  no  need  to 
make  a  secret  of  it.  I  call  what  is  good,  good,  whether  it 
was  I  who  made  it,  or  somebody  else." 

That  seemed  both  just  and  true  to  Johannes.  Now  that 
he  was  again  with  Van  Lieverlee,  and  heard  him  talk  in  such 
a  grand  style,  with  that  easy,  fluent  enunciation,  and  those 
elegant  gestures,  he  found  him,  on  the  whole,  not  bad,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  attractive  and  admirable.  He  knew  that 
Marjon  would  think  othenvise;  but  his  confidence  in  her 
judgment  declined  as  his  confidence  in  Van  Lieverlee  aug- 
mented. 

"  Now,  Johannes,  I  have  something  for  you  which  ought 
to  make  you  very  happy,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  at  the  same 
time  taking  from  a  pretty,  red  portfolio,  that  smelled  delight- 
fully like  Russia  leather,  a  note  embellished  with  a  crown  and 
sealed  with  blue  wax.  "  This  was  written  by  Countess 
Dolores  with  her  own  hand,  and  I  know  what  it  contains. 
Treat  it  with  respect." 

Before  handing  it  over  to  him.  Van  Lieverlee,  with  a  sweep- 
ing flourish,  pressed  it  to  his  own  lips.  Johannes  felt  him- 
self to  be  a  dolt;  for  he  knew  it  would  be  an  impossibility  for 
him  to  imitate  that. 


296  THE    Q_UEST 

The  note  contained  a  very  brief,  though  cordial,  invitation 
to  stay  at  her  home  sometime,  when  she  should  be  with  her 
children,  at  her  country-seat  in  England.  There  was,  too, 
with'n  the  note,  a  pretty  bit  of  paper.  Johannes  had  never 
seen  its  like.      It  meant  money. 

"How  kind  of  her!"  he  exclaimed  rapturously.  He  felt 
greatly  honored.  Immediately,  however,  his  thoughts  turned 
toward  Markus  —  toward  Marjon  and  Keesje.  How  about 
them?  Something  must  be  done  about  it;  to  decline  was 
impossible. 

"Well?"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  "You  do  not  appear  to  be 
half  pleased  about  it.  Or  do  not  you  believe  it  yet  ?  It  really 
is  not  a  joke!" 

"Oh,    no!"    said    Johannes.     "I    know    it    is    not   .    .    . 
but.    .    .    ." 

"Your  friend  may  go  with  you,  you  know^;  or  does  she 
not  care  to  ?" 

"I  have  not  asked  her  yet,"  said  Johannes,  "for,  you  see, 
we  have   .    .    .   we  have  finally  found  him." 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  are  you  talking  about? 
Speak  out  plainly,  boy.  You  need  never  keep  secrets  from 
me. 

"It  is  no  secret,  sir,"  said  Johannes,  greatly  embarrassed. 

"Then  why  are  you  stuttering  so?  And  why  do  you  say 
'sir'  ?  Did  I  not  write  you  my  name  ?  Or  do  you  reject  my 
offer  of  brotherhood  ?" 

"I  will  accept  it,  gladly,  but  I  have  still  another  brother 
that  I  think  a  great  deal  of.  It  is  he  whom  we  are  seeking 
• —  my  comrade  and  I.     And  now  we  have  found  him." 

"A  real,  ordinary  brother?" 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Johannes.  And  then,  after  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  softly,  but  with  emphasis,  "It  is  .  .  .  Markus 
,    .    .      Do  you  know  whom  I  mean  ?" 

"Markus?  Who  is  Markus?"  asked  Van  Lieverlee,  with 
some  impatience,  as  if  completely  m}'stified. 

"I  do  not  know  who  he  is,"  replied  Johannes,  in  a  baffled 


THEQUEST  297 

manner.  "I  hoped  that  you  might  know  because  you  are  so 
clever,  and  have  seen  so  much." 

Then  he  related  what  had  happened  to  him  after  he  had 
fallen  in  with  the  dark  figure,  on  the  way  to  the  city  where 
mankind  was  —  with  its  sorrows. 

Van  Lieverlee  listened,  staring  into  space  at  first,  with  a 
rather  incredulous  and  impatient  countenance,  now  and  then 
giving  Johannes  a  scrutinizing  look.     At  last  he  smiled. 

Then,  slowly  and  decisively,  he  said,  "It  is  very  clear 
who  he  is." 

"Who  is  he.^"  asked  Johannes  in  breathless  expectancy. 

"Well,  a  Mahatma,  of  course  —  a  member  of  the  sacred 
brotherhood  from  Thibet.  We  will  surely  introduce  him, 
also,  to  the  Pleiades.     He  will  feel  quite  at  home  there." 

That  sounded  very  pleasing  and  reassuring.  Was  the  great 
enigma  about  to  be  solved  now,  and  every  trouble  smoothed 
away  ? 

"  But,"  said  Johannes,  hesitating,  "Markus  feels  really 
at  home  only  when  he  is  among  poor  and  neglected  people 
—  Kermis-folk,  and  working  men.  He  looks  like  a  laborer, 
too  —  almost  like  a  tramp  —  he  is  so  very  poor.  I  never 
look  at  him  without  wanting  to  cry.  He  is  very  different 
from  you  —  utterly  unlike!" 

"That  is  nothing.  That  does  not  signify,"  said  Van 
Lieverlee,  with  an  impatient  toss  of  his  head.  "He  dis- 
sembles." 

"Then  you,  also,  think  ..."  said  Johannes,  hesitating, 
and  resuming  with  an  effort,  "You  think,  Walter,  that  the 
poor  are  downtrodden,  and  that  there  is  injustice  in  wealth  ?" 

Van  Lieverlee  threw  back  his  head,  and  made  a  sweeping 
gesture  with  his  right  arm. 

"My  dear  boy,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  enlighten  me 
upon  that  subject.  I  was  a  socialist  before  you  began  to 
think.  It  is  very  natural  for  any  kind-hearted  man  to  begin 
with  such  childish  fancies.  The  poor  are  imposed  upon,  and 
the   rich    are   at    fault.      Every   newsboy,   nowadays,    knows 


298  THEQUEST 

that.  But  when  one  {rrows  somewhat  older,  and  sets  to  be- 
hold  things  from  an  esoteric  standpoint,  the  matter  is  not  so 
simple." 

"  There  you  are,"  thought  Johannes.  "  As  Markus  told  It, 
it  was  much  too  simple  to  be  true." 

"Do  not  forget,"  resumed  Van  Lieverlee,  "that  we  all 
come  into  the  world  with  an  individual  Karma.  Nothing  can 
alter  it.  Each  one  must  bring  with  him  his  past,  and  either 
expiate  or  else  enjoy  it.  We  all  receive  an  appointed  task 
W'hich  we  are  obliged  to  perform.  The  poor  and  downtrod- 
den must  attribute  their  sad  fate  to  the  inevitable  outcome  of 
former  deeds;  and  the  trials  they  endure  are  the  best  medium 
for  their  purification  and  absolution.  There  are  others,  on 
the  contrary,  who  behold  their  course  in  life  more  clear 
and  smooth  because  their  hardest  struggles  lie  behind  them. 
I  really  sympathize  deeply  with  the  unhappy  proletarian;  but 
I  do  not  on  that  account  venture  to  lower  myself  to  his  pitiful 
condition.  The  Powers  hold  him  there,  and  me  here — each 
at  his  post.  He  still  needs  material  misery  to  make  him 
wiser.  I  need  it  no  longer,  because  I  have  learned  enough  in 
former  incarnations.  My  task,  instead,  is  the  elevation, 
refinement,  and  preservation  of  the  beautiful.  Therefore  I 
am  assigned  to  a  more  privileged  position.  I  am  a  watch- 
man in  the  high  domain  of  Art.  This  must  be  kept  pure 
and  undefiled  in  the  great,  miry  medley  of  coarse,  rude,  and 
apathetic  people  who  compose  the  greater  part  of  man- 
kind. This  cultivation  of  the  beautiful  is  my  sacred  duty. 
To  it  I  must  devote  myself  in  all  possible  ways,  and  for  all 
time.  The  beautiful!  The  beautiful!  in  its  highest  refine- 
ment —  sleeping  or  waking  —  in  voice,  in  movement,  in  food, 
and  in  clothing!  That  is  my  existence,  and  to  it  I  must  sub- 
ordinate everything  else." 

This  oration  Van  Lieverlee  delivered  with  great  emphasis 
while  slowly  moving  forward  over  the  short,  smooth  grass, 
accompanying  the  cadences  of  the  well-chosen  sentences  with 
wide  time-beats  of  the  ebony  walking-stick. 


THEQUEST  299 

Johannes  was  convinced  —  to  such  a  degree  that  he  per- 
ceived in  it  naught  else  than  the  complement  and  completion 
of  that  which  Markus,  up  to  the  present,  had  taught  him. 

Yes,  he  might  go  to  his  children  now.  He  was  sure  of  it. 
Markus  would  approve. 

"I  wish  that  Marjon  might  hear  you  —  just  once,"  said  he. 

"Marjon  ?  Is  that  your  comrade  .?  Then  why  does  he  not 
come?  Bless  me!  It  was  a  girl,  though,  truly!  What  are 
you  to  each  other  ?" 

Van  Lieverlee  stopped,  and,  stroking  his  small,  flaxen  beard 
gave  Johannes  another  keen  look. 

"Do  you  not  really  think,  Johannes,"  he  proceeded,  with 
significant  glances,  and  in  a  judicial  tone,  "do  you  not  think 
.  .  .  h'm  ...  to  put  it  mildly,  that  you  are  rather  free 
and  easy  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Johannes,  looking  straight 
at  him,  unsuspiciously. 

"You  are  a  sly  little  customer,  and  you  know  remarkably 
well  how  to  conduct  yourself;  but  there  is  not  a  bit  of  need 
for  your  troubling  yourself  about  me.  I  am  not  one  of  the 
narrow-minded,  every-day  sort  of  people.  Such  things  are 
nothing  to  me  —  no  more  than  a  dry  leaf.  I  only  wish  you  to 
bear  in  mind  the  difficulties.  We  must  not  expose  our  esoteric 
position.  There  are  too  many  who  understand  nothing  about 
it,  and  would  get  us  into  all  kinds  of  difficulties.  Countess 
Dolores,  for  example,  is  still  very  backward  in  that  respect." 

Johannes  understood  next  to  nothing  of  this  harangue,  but 
he  was  afraid  of  being  taken  for  a  fool  if  he  let  it  be  evident. 
So  he  ventured  the  remark: 

"I  will  do  my  best." 

Van  Lieverlee  burst  out  laughing,  and  Johannes  laughed 
with  him,  pleased  that  he  appeared  to  have  said  something 
smart.  Thereupon  he  took  his  leave,  and  went  to  look  up 
Marjon,  that  they  might  go  to  the  city  of  the  miners. 


Ill 

The  walls  of  the  little  house  were  much  thicker  than  those  of 
the  houses  of  Dutch  laborers.  The  small  sashes,  curtained 
with  white  muslin,  lay  deep  in  the  window-openings,  and  upon 
each  broad  sill  stood  a  flowering  plant  and  a  begonia. 

When  Johannes  and  Marjon  looked  in  through  the  window, 
Markus  was  sitting  at  the  table.  The  housewife  stood  beside 
him,  sleeves  tucked  up,  carrying  on  her  left  arm  a  half-sleep- 
ing child,  while  with  her  right  hand  she  was  putting  food  upon 
his  plate.  A  somewhat  older  child  stood  by  his  knee  watch- 
ing the  steaming  food. 

The  mother's  cheeks  were  pale  and  sunken,  from  sorrow, 
and  her  eyes  were  still  full  of  tears. 

"Nothing  will  come  of  it,  after  all,"  she  said  with  a  sigh. 
"If  only  he  had  been  wiser!  Those  miserable  roysterers  have 
talked  him  into  it.  That's  what  comes  of  those  meetings. 
If  only  he  had  stayed  at  home!  The  husband  belongs  at 
home." 

"Do  not  be  afraid,  mother,"  said  Markus.  "He  did  what 
he  sincerely  thought  was  right.  Who  does  that  can  always 
be  at  peace." 

"Although  he  should  starve  ?"  asked  the  wife,  bitterly. 

"Yes,  although  he  should  starve.  It  is  better  to  starve 
with  a  good  conscience,  than  to  live  in  comfort  by  fraud." 

This  silenced  the  woman  for  a  time.  Then  she  said,  "If 
it  were  not  for  the  children  ..."  and  the  tears  flowed 
faster. 

"It  is  exactly  on  account  of  the  children,  mother.  If  the 
children  are  good,  they  will  thank  the  father  who  is  struggling 
for  their  sakes,  even  though  he  struggle  in  vain.  And  there 
is  something  for  them  still,  else  you  would  not  have  been  able 
to  give  to  me  —  the  stranger." 

Markus  looked  at  her  smilingly,  and  she  smiled  in  return. 

•500 


THEQUEST  301 

"You  —  you  should  have  our  last  mouthful!"  said  she, 
heartily.  Then,  glancing  toward  the  window,  she  added: 
"Who  are  those  young  scamps  looking  in?  And  a  monkey 
with  them!" 

Then  Markus  turned  around.  As  soon  as  the  two  standing 
outside  recognized  his  face,  they  shouted  "Hurrah!"  and 
rushed  in  without  knocking. 

Marjon  flew  to  Markus,  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and 
kissed  him.  Johannes,  rather  more  shy,  clung  to  his  hand. 
Keesje,  being  distrustful  of  the  children,  peered  around  the 
place  with  careful  scrutiny. 

Then  there  followed  in  Dutch  a  brisk,  confused  interchange 
of  information.  All  the  adventures  had  to  be  narrated,  and 
Marjon  was  very  happy  and  communicative.  The  mother 
kept  still,  looking  on  with  a  discontented  air,  full  of  her  own 
troubles.  The  noise  awakened  the  half-slumbering  child, 
and  it  began  to  cry. 

Then  the  husband  came  home,  morose  and  irritable. 

"What  confounded  business  is  this?"  he  cried;  and  the 
two  were  silent,  slowly  comprehending  that  they  were  in  a 
dwelling  full  of  care.  Johannes  looked  earnestly  at  the  weary, 
care-seamed  face  of  the  man,  and  the  pale,  anxious  features 
of  the  mother,  wondering  if  there  was  any  news. 

"Hollanders?"  asked  the  miner,  seating  himself  at  the 
table,  and  holding  up  a  plate. 

"Yes,  friends  of  Markus,"  replied  the  wife.  Then,  in  as- 
sumed calmness,  she  asked:  "Is  there  any  news?" 

"We  have  the  best  of  it!"  said  the  husband,  with  forced 
cheerfulness.  "We  win  — we  surely  win.  It  can't  be  other- 
wise.    What  have  you  to  say  about  it,  Markus?" 

But  Markus  was  silent,  and  gazing  out-of-doors.  Swearing 
because  the  food  was  not  to  his  taste,  the  man  then  began  to 
eat.  Marjon's  merriment  subsided.  The  wife  shook  her 
head  sadly,  and  kissed  her  child. 

"You  need  to  look  out,  you  young  rascals,"  said  the 
man,    all    at    once.     "They    are    searching    for    you.     Have 


302  THEOUEST 

you  been  pilfering  ?  Which  of  you  js  the  girl  in  dis- 
guise ?" 

"/  am!"  said  Marjon.  "What  do  they  want  of  me  ?  Now 
what  if  I  have  no  other  duds  ?" 

"Are  you  a  girl?"  asked  the  wife.     "Shame  on  you!" 

"Has  not  Vrouw  Huber  a  spare  garment  for  her?"  asked 
Markus.     "She  has  so  many  daughters!" 

"We  may  need  to  pawn  them  all,"  replied  the  wife.  But 
Johannes,  with  a  manly  bearing,  cried:  "We  can  pay  for 
them.     I  have  some  money!" 

"O-o-oh!"  said  the  others  doubtfully,  while  Markus  simply 
smiled.  Thus  Marjon  was  soon  back  again  in  her  girl's  ap- 
parel —  an  ugly  red-checked  little  frock.  Keesje  alone  was 
satisfied  with  the  change. 

"Have  you  been  singing  much?"  asked  Markus. 

"Yes,  we  sing  every  day,"  said  Marjon,  "and  Johan- 
nes has  made  some  nice  new  songs." 

"That  is  good,"  said  Markus.  Then,  turning  to  husband 
and  wife:  "May  they  sing  here  a  little?" 

"Sing!  A  pretty  time  for  singing!"  said  the  wnfe,  scornfully. 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  husband.  "A  nice  song  is  never 
out  of  place." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Markus.  "It  is  not  well  to  hear 
nothing  but  sighs." 

Marjon  softly  tuned  her  guitar;  and  while  the  husband  sat 
beside  the  brick  stove,  smoking  his  pipe,  and  the  wife  laid  her 
little  one  in  bed,  the  two  children  began  to  sing  a  song  —  the 
last  of  those  they  had  made  together.  It  was  a  melancholy 
little  song,  as  were  all  those  they  had  sung  during  the  last 
weeks.     These  were  the  words: 

"If  I  should  say  what  makes  me  sad, 
My  effort  would  be  all  in  vain; 
But  nightingales  and  roses  glad 
They  whisper  it  in  sweet  refrain. 


THEQUEST  303 

"The  evening  zephyr  softly  sighs 

In  strains  one  clearly  understands; 
I  see  it  traced  high  o'er  the  skies 
In  writing  made  by  mystic  hands. 

"I  know  a  land  where  every  grief 
Is  changed  into  a  mellow  song; 
Where  roses  heal  with  blushing  lips 
All  wounds  and  every  aching  wrong. 

"That  land,  though  not  so  far  away, 
I  may  not,  cannot  enter  there; 
It  is  not  here  where  now  I  stay 

And  no  one  saves  me  from  despair." 

"Is  that  Dutch,  now?"  asked  the  miner.  "I  can't  un- 
derstand a  bit  of  it  ?     Can  you,  wife  ?" 

Weeping,  the  wife  shook  her  head. 

"Then  what  are  you  snivelling  for,  if  you  don't  under- 
stand?" 

"I  don't  understand  it  at  all;  but  it  makes  me  cry,  and  that 
does  me  good,"  said  the  wife. 

"All  right,  then!  If  it  does  you  good  we'll  have  it  once 
more."     And  the  children  sang  it  over  again. 

When  they  went  away,  they  left  the  family  in  a  more  peace- 
ful mood. 

Markus  took  his  place  in  the  middle,  between  the  two  chil- 
dren, Keesje  sitting  upon  his  shoulder,  with  one  little  hand 
resting  confidingly  on  his  cap,  attentively  studying  the  thick, 
dark  hair  at  his  temples. 

"Markus!"  said  Johannes.  "I  do  not  understand  it-. 
Really,  what  has  my  grief  to  do  with  theirs  ?  And  yet,  it  did 
seem  as  if  they  were  crying  over  my  verses.  But  my  little 
griefs  are  of  so  little  account,  while  they  are  anxious  about 
things  so  much  more  important." 


304 


THE    QUEST 


"I  understand,  perfectly,"  said  Marjon.  "Awhile  ago, 
they  might  beat  me  as  hard  as  they  pleased,  and  I  wouldn't 
utter  a  sound.  But  once,  when  they  had  given  me  a  hard 
whipping,  I  saw  a  forlorn  little  kitten  that  looked  quite  as  un- 
happy as  I  was,  and  then  I  began  to  cry  with  all  my  might, 
and  it  made  me  feel  better." 

"Then  you  think,  children,  that  all  sorrow  suffered  is  one 
single  sorrow  ?  But  so  is  all  happiness  one  happiness.  The 
Father  suffers  with  everything,  and  whoever  comforts  a  poor 
little  kitten,  comforts  the  Father." 

These  sayings  made  things  more  plain  to  Johannes,  and 
gave  him  much  to  ponder  over.  He  forgot  everything  else, 
until  they  were  again  in  their  lodgings  —  two  little  rooms  in 
an  old,  unoccupied  mill.  Here  they  were  given  some  bed- 
clothes, by  a  girl  from  a  near-by  lodging-house.  Marjon  now 
slept  apart,  while  Johannes  and  Markus  stayed  together,  in 
one  room. 

The  next  morning,  while  they  were  drinking  coffee  in  the 
dark  little  bar-room  of  the  lodging-house,  Johannes  felt  he 
must  speak  of  what  lay  on  his  heart.  He  brought  out  the 
fragrant,  violet-colored  note,  also  the  one  adorned  with  the 
crown  and  the  blue  sealing-wax;  but  in  his  diffidence  even  his 
hope  of  an  understanding  with  Markus  drooped  again. 

"I  smell  it  already!"  cried  Marjon.  "That's  the  hair- 
dresser scent  of  that  fop,  with  his  tufted  top-piece." 

That  angered  Johannes.  "Don't  you  wish  you  could  make 
such  poems  as  that  'fop'  can?" 

And,  nettled  by  this  disrespect  of  his  new  friend,  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  began  excitedly  repeating  the  verses.  He  had 
his  trouble  for  his  pains.  Markus  listened  with  unmoved 
countenance,  and  Marjon,  somewhat  taken  aback,  looked  at 
Markus.     But  the  latter  said  not  a  word. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  "I  don't  believe 
a  bit  of  it!     Not  a  darn  bit." 

"Then  I'll    tell   you,"    retorted    Johannes,    sharply,    "that 


THEQUEST  305 

you  are  too  rude  and  coarse  to  understand  things  that  are 
elevated." 

"Maybe  I  am,"  said  Marjon  in  her  coolest,  most  indiffer- 
ent manner. 

Then  Johannes  spoke  to  Markus  alone,  hoping  for  an  un- 
derstanding from  him.  What  he  said  came  out  passionately, 
as  if  it  had  long  been  repressed,  and  his  voice  trembled  with 
ready  tears. 

"I  have  thought  for  a  long,  long  time,  Markus,  that  there 
was  no  use  in  trying.  I  cannot  bear  anything  rude  and  rough, 
and  everything  I  have  yet  seen  in  people  is  rude  and  rough  — 
neither  good  nor  beautiful.  It  cannot  be  that  the  Father 
meant  it  to  be  so.  And  now  that  I  have  found  something 
fine,  and  exquisite,  and  noble,  ought  I  not  to  follow  it .?  I  had 
not  thought  that  there  were  anywhere  such  beautiful  human 
beings.  Markus,  they  are  the  most  beautiful  of  all  I  have 
ever  seen.  Their  hair  is  like  gold,  Markus.  Not  even  the 
elves  have  more  beautiful  hair.  And  their  little  feet  are  so 
slim,  and  their  throats  so  slender!  I  cannot  help  thinking  of 
them  all  the  time  —  of  the  pretty,  proud  way  they  raise  their 
heads,  of  their  sensitive  lips,  of  the  beautiful,  upturned  curves 
at  the  corners  of  their  mouths,  and  of  the  music  in  their  voices 
when  they  ask  me  anything.  They  danced  together  to  the 
music,  hand  in  hand,  and  then  their  nice  smooth  stockings 
peeped  out,  together,  from  under  their  little  velvet  dresses.  It 
made  me  dizzy.  One  of  them  has  blue  eyes,  and  fuller,  redder 
lips.  She  is  the  gentler  and  more  innocent.  The  other  has 
greyer,  more  mischievous  eyes,  and  a  smaller  mouth.  She  is 
more  knowing  and  roguish.  She  is  the  fairer,  and  she  has 
little  fine  freckles  just  under  her  eyes.  And  you  ought  to  see 
them  when  they  run  up  to  their  mother,  one  on  each  side, 
when  all  their  hair  tumbles  down  over  her,  in  two  shades  of 
gold  —  brown  gold  and  light  gold  —  that  ripples  together  like 
a  flowing  river!  And  I  saw  the  diamonds  in  their  mother's 
neck,  sparkling  through  it  all!  You  ought  to  hear  them 
speak   English  —  so   smoothly  and    purely.     But  they  speak 


3o6  THEQUEST 

Dutch,  too,  and  I  would  much  rather  hear  that.  One  of 
them  —  the  innocent  one  —  Hsps  a  httle.  She  has  the  darkest 
hair,  with  the  most  beautiful  waves  in  it.  But  I  could  talk 
more  easily  with  the  other  one.  She  is  more  intelligent.  And 
the  mother,  also,  is  so  attractive  in  every  way.  Everything 
she  says  is  fine  and  noble,  and  every  movement  is  charming. 
You  have  a  feeling  that  she  stands  far,  far  above  you,  and 
yet  she  acts  in  everything  as  if  she  were  the  least  of  all. 
Isn't  that  lovely,  Markus  ?     Is  it  not  the  way  it  should  be?" 

Markus  made  no  reply,  but  looked  straight  at  him,  very 
seriously,  and  with  a  puzzling  expression.  It  was  kind,  but 
wholly  incomprehensible  to  Johannes. 

In  his  excitement  Johannes  kept  on:  "I  have  just  come  into 
a  consciousness  now  of  something  in  the  w^orld  of  people,  of 
which  I  knew  nothing  whatever  before.  My-  friend  Walter, 
the  one  who  made  that  poem,  lives  in  that  w'orld.  She  —  " 
pointing  to  Marjon  —  "has  no  idea  of  it.  That  is  not  her  fault. 
I  had  no  idea  of  it  before.  But  I  am  not  surly,  like  her;  I 
do  not  scoff  at  it  just  because  I  do  not  belong  there  yet.  It 
is  a  world  of  beauty  and  refinement  —  a  sublime  world  of 
poetry  and  art.  Walter  wishes  to  lead  me  into  it,  and  I  think 
it  silly  in  her  now  to  jeer  about  it.  Do  you  not  think  it  silly, 
Markus?" 

Markus'  eyes  remained  as  serious  and  puzzling  as  ever,  and 
his  mouth  uttered  not  a  word.  Johannes  looked  first  at  one, 
then  at  the  other,  for  an  answer  to  his  question. 

At  last  Markus  said:  "What  does  Marjon  say?" 

Marjon,  wiio  had  been  leaning  forward  as  she  sat,  lifted  up 
her  head.  She  no  longer  looked  indifferent.  Her  cheeks 
were  glowing,  and  her  eyes,  with  their  dry,  red  rims,  seemed  to 
be  afire.  She  stared  with  the  fixed,  glittering  look  of  one  in 
a  fever,  and  said: 

"What  do  I  say?  I  have  nothing  to  say.  He  thinks  me 
too  rude  and  rough.  Possibly  I  am.  I  swear  sometimes, 
and  Keesje  smells.  I  can't  endure  those  people,  and  they 
don't  want  anything  to  do  with  me  —  certainly  not  with  Kees. 


THE    QUEST  307 

As  Jo  has  need  of  finer  companionship  now,  he  must  choose 
for  himself." 

"No,  Marjon,  you  do  not  understand  me;  or  do  you  not  wish 
to  understand?"  said  Johannes,  sadly.  "It  is  not  because 
I  have  need  of  it,  but  because  it  is  good.  It  is  good  to 
enter  a  finer  Hfe  —  into  a  more  elevated  world.  Is  it  not  so, 
Markus  .''     You  understand  me,  do  you  not?" 

"I  understand,"  said  Markus. 

"Tell  her,  then,  that  she  must  come  too  —  that  it  would  be 
better  so." 

"I  don't  think  it  would  be  better,"  said  Marjon,  "and  I'm 
certainly  not  going  with  you." 

"Tell  us,  then,  Markus,  while  we  have  you  with  us  —  tell 
us  what  we  ought  to  do.     We  will  do  as  you  say." 

"I  don't  know  yet  whether  I  will  or  not,"  said  Marjon. 

Then  Markus  smiled,  and  nodding  toward  Marjon,  he  said: 
"Look!  She  knows  already  we  must  not  promise  obedience 
to  any  one.  Let  him  who  promises  obedience  promise  it 
to  the  Father." 

"But  you  are  so  much  wiser  than  we  are,  Markus." 

"Is  it  enough  that  I  am  wiser,  Johannes?  Do  you  not 
wish  to  become  wiser  yourself?  Because  I  can  run  better, 
ought  you  to  let  me  carry  you  ?  How  will  you  ever  learn  to 
run,  yourself?" 

Marjon  stared  at  him  fixedly,  w^ith  her  flashing,  flaming 
eyes,  while  two  red  spots  burned  upon  her  pale  cheeks.  She 
stepped  up  to  Markus  and  pressed  her  hand  upon  his  mouth, 
exclaiming  passionately: 

"Do  not  say  it!  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Don't 
say  it;  for  then  he  will  do  it,  and  he  must  not!  he  7nust 
not!" 

Then  she  hid  her  face  on  Markus'  arm.  Markus  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  head  and  spoke  to  her  tenderly: 

"Are  you  not  willing,  then,  to  grant  him  what  you  your- 
self demand  —  that  he  should  be  doing  what  he  himself,  not 
some  one  else,  thinks  right  ?" 


3o8  THEQUEST 

Marjon  looked  up.  Her  eyes  were  tearless.  Johannes 
listened  quietly,  and  Markus  continued: 

"There  are  frightful  events,  children,  but  most  of  them  are 
not  so  bad  as  they  seem  to  be.  The  fear  of  them,  only, 
is  bad.  But  the  only  events  that  you  should  dread  come 
through  not  doing  what  you  yourself  think  right  —  yourself, 
children  —  yourself  alone,  with  the  Father.  The  Father 
speaks  to  us  also  through  men,  and  through  their  wise  words. 
But  they  are  indirect  vehicles;  we  have  Him  within  ourselves 
—  directly  —  just  as  you,  Marjon,  are  now  resting  upon  my 
bosom.  He  wills  it  to  be  so,  and  there  we  must  seek  him  — 
more  and  more. 

"Now  there  is  a  great  deal  of  self-deception.  Self  is  a 
long  while  blind  and  deaf,  and  we  often  mistake  the  Devil's 
voice  for  the  voice  of  God,  and  take  the  Enemy  to  be  the 
Father.  But  whoever  is  too  fearful  of  straying  never  leaves 
his  place,  and  fails  to  find  the  right  way.  A  swimmer  who  dares 
not  release  his  hold  upon  another  —  will  drown  when  in  peril. 
Dare  then,  children,  to  release  your  hold  upon  others  —  all  — 
all  — to  follow  the  Father's  voice  as  it  speaks  within  yourselves. 
Let  all  who  will,  call  evil  what  seems  to  yourselves  good. 
Do  this,  and  the  Father  will  not  be  ashamed  of  you." 

"But  understand  me  well;  close  your  ears  to  no  one,  for 
the  truth  comes  from  all  sides,  and  God  speaks  everywhere. 
Ask  the  opinion  of  others,  but  ask  no  one  else  to  judge  for 
you. 

They  were  all  silent  for  awhile.  At  last  Marjon  stood  up, 
slowly,  with  averted  face,  and  flinging  back  her  short,  ash- 
blonde  hair  from  her  forehead,  she  stepped  up  to  Keesje,  who, 
fastened  to  a  chain,  sat  shelling  nuts.  She  loosened  his  chain, 
and  said  gently  and  aff'ectionately:  "Coming  with  me,  Kees  ? 
I  know  very  well  what  is  going  to  happen  now."  Then  she 
had  him  leap  to  her  shoulder,  and,  without  once  looking 
round,  she  went  out  into  the  street. 

"Do  you  also  know,  Johannes?"  asked  Markus. 
"Yes!"  said  Johannas,  resolutely,  "I  am  going!" 


IV 

And  so  Little  Johannes  took  leave  again  of  his  Guide  and  of 
his  friend,  and  went  forth  to  seek  a  finer  and  a  nobler  sphere 
of  life. 

He  did  not  do  this  now  in  a  heedless  way,  as  when  first  he 
left  his  father,  and,  afterward,  Windekind;  nor  partly  by  com- 
pulsion, as  when  he  chose  Vrede-best  rather  than  the  gypsy- 
wagon. 

He  was  acting  now  quite  voluntarily,  according  to  his  own 
ideas  —  not  recklessly,  but  in  harmony  with  his  convictions. 
Ought  we  not  to  admit  that  he  was  making  good  progress  ? 
Indeed,  he  thought  so  himself. 

How  well  he  recollected  his  first  talk  with  Markus,  during 
the  storm,  about  remembering  and  forgetting!  What  he  was 
now  doing,  however,  did  not  seem  to  him  disloyal.  True, 
he  was  turning  away  from  friends,  but  he  was  following  that 
which  he  took  to  be  the  mind  of  his  dearest  friend,  even  as 
Markus  had  taught  him. 

He  was  resolved  to  combat  the  sorrows  of  humanity.  But 
first  of  all,  he  most  become  a  good  man  himself,  and  he  agreed 
with  Van  Lieverlee  that  it  was  the  proper  thing  for  a  good 
man  to  be  also  a  clever  one,  and  to  live  a  fine  life. 

Hitherto,  there  had  been  too  little  of  that  which  was  beauti- 
ful around  him.  With  regard  to  his  face,  he  had  a  vague 
idea  that  it  was  plain.  But  that  he  could  not  very  well  help. 
All  the  more,  it  behooved  him  to  have  a  care  for  his  clothes. 
Every  flower  and  every  bird  presented  a  more  comely  ap- 
pearance than  did  he.  His  cap  and  jacket  were  formless, 
ragged,  and  rain-spotted.  His  shoes  were  worn  and  out  of 
shape.  And  while  so  attired,  the  thought  of  becoming  the 
guest  of  a  countess,  and  of  appearing  beside  Van  Lieverlee, 
was  not  a  little  distressing. 

Happily,  he  now  possessed  a  little  money  —  not  much,  to 

309 


310  THE    GUEST 

be  sure,  for  he  had  his  traveling  expenses  to  meet,  but  yet  he 
could  spare  a  little  for  a  few  purchases.  And  that  was  a  seri- 
ous question  for  Johannes,  involving  much  thought  —  how 
he  could  array  himself  the  most  fine!)-,  at  the  least  cost. 

He  first  bought  a  white,  starched  "dicky,"  and  with  it  a 
ready-made  tie  —  black  —  not  venturing,  when  he  thought 
of  Van  Lieverlee's  gorgeous  cravats,  to  select  a  colored  one. 
Then  for  his  dicky  he  selected  studs  with  little  green  stones  in 
them.  They  looked  like  emeralds,  but  they  were  onl}'  green 
glass.  The  studs  were  not  a  necessity,  for  the  dicky  fastened 
at  the  back.  But  their  modest  twinkling  simply  attested  his 
toleration  of  outward  adornment.  He  bought  also  a  stiff, 
round  hat,  a  cloak,  and  a  pair  of  new  shoes.  That  the  shoes 
pinched  and  pained  him  was  a  small  matter.  He  was  pleased 
at  the  odor  of  new  leather  which  they  spread  around,  and 
liked  their  loud  squeaking  still  better. 

They  did  not  squeak  at  first,  to  his  distinct  disappointment; 
but  after  an  hour  or  two  —  there  it  was!  They  began  to 
creak  and  squeak,  as  if  proclaiming  to  everybody  that  from 
this  day  forward  he  became  part  of  the  higher  life,  and  one 
of  the  finer  sort  of  human  beincrs. 

Finally  —  a  pair  of  kid  gloves!  But  these  he  dared  not 
put  on  after  he  had  them.  As  little  did  he  dare  leave  them 
off,  for  they  had  cost  a  good  deal,  and  the  money  must  not  be 
thrown  away.  So  he  settled  the  question  by  wearing  one  and 
carrying  the  other.  He  seemed,  indeed,  to  remember  that 
this  was  the  mode. 

And  a  travelino;-bajr  now  seemed  to  him  the  ideal  —  the 
acme  —  of  dignity.  But  he  had  nothing  to  put  into  it.  To 
buy  more  for  the  mere  sake  of  filling  it  was  not  to  be  thought 
of,  and  to  carry  it  for  the  mere  sake  of  appearances  ran 
counter  to  his  ideas  of  sincerity  and  honesty.  Aunt  Serena's 
old  satchel  he  left  behind  with  Marjon. 

The  leave-taking  was  not  hard  for  him.  No,  indeed!  He 
was  too  full  of  the  new  life  which  awaited  him.  Never  had 
he  felt  more  fully  convinced  that  he  was  taking  the  right  path 
—  that  he  was  going  to  do  the  right  thing. 


THE    QUEST  311 

Markus  had  said  that  we  must  seek  for  happiness  and  pros- 
perity, as  well  as  for  goodness.  Johannes  felt  happier  than 
he  ever  had  felt  since  leaving  Windekind.  Did  not  that 
prove  that  he  was  in  the  right  way  ? 

And  what  was  the  Father's  voice  of  which  Markus  had 
spoken,  if  not  this  inner  joy  ?  It  was  not,  however,  the  au- 
dible, usual  voice,  sounding  in  Dutch,  or  some  other  tongue. 
The  Bible,  indeed,  said  so;  but  that  was  not  now  the  way. 
Surely,  then,  it  must  be  this  feeling  of  joy  and  of  glad  antici- 
pation that  he  now  experienced. 

Does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  Johannes  had  advanced  ?  I 
do  not  believe  that  you  would  have  reasoned  better  than  he 
did.  And  if  you  were  not  taken  in  as  he  was,  it  would  have 
been  more  from  good  luck  than  from  wisdom. 

At  first  Van  Lieverlee  had  promised  to  accompany  him;  but 
at  the  last  moment,  without  giving  a  reason,  he  wrote  to  recall 
his  promise,  and  let  Johannes  go  alone. 

In  the  corner  of  a  third-class  railway  coach,  among  a  strange 
people,  he  sped  through  a  foreign  country.  He  was  at  rest 
and  contented,  because  he  was  going  to  the  two  children.  It 
was  as  great  a  pleasure  to  him  as  if  he  had  been  traveling  to 
the  home  of  his  parents.  Where  those  dear,  beautiful  little 
beings  were,  there  was  his  home.  He  looked  at  the  foreigners 
with  interest.  They  seemed  less  coarse  and  clownish,  less 
ugly  and  unmannerly,  than  his  own  people.  They  were  much 
more  merry  and  agreeable,  also  more  obliging  to  one  another. 
Johannes  was  on  the  alert  for  an  occasion  to  do  the  polite 
thing.  However,  as  he  did  not  speak  the  language  very  flu- 
ently, he  sat  in  his  corner  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  listening 
quietly,  and  in  a  friendly  mood,  to  the  scraps  of  conversation 
that  came  to  him.  This  was  carried  on  in  the  rattling,  jolt- 
ing car,  with  loud  laughter  and  vehement  gesticulations. 

At  night  he  slept  once  more  on  the  leather-covered  benches 
of  a  boat.  This  time  it  was  not  on  the  smooth  Rhine,  but  on 
the  mighty,  swelling  ocean.  All  around  him  were  people 
to  whom  he  had  nothing  to  say.     Only,  his  neighbor  on  the 


312  THE    QUEST 

leather  bench  rcc] nested  him  not  to  kick  his  head.  Then  he 
made  himseU  as  small  as  possible,  and  lay  farther  away,  and 
quite  still. 

About  midnight  he  took  a  peep  around  the  cabin,  hardly 
knowing  whether  or  not  he  had  been  asleep. 

The  people  lay  at  rest.  Most  of  them  appeared  to  be 
asleep  —  some  making  queer  noises.  The  light  was  dim, 
and,  in  the  semi-darkness,  the  lamps  swung  mysteriously  to 
and  fro,  and  the  plants  that  stood  upon  the  table  were  all  of 
them  quivering.  One  could  hear,  above  the  soft  jingling  and 
creaking  everywhere,  the  quaking  and  dull  throbbing  of  the 
engines.  Outside,  the  water  was  hissing  and  rushing,  and 
dashing  along  the  sides  of  the  vessel. 

Beside  the  table  sat  a  lone  passenger  —  a  tall,  dark  figure. 
He  was  motionless,  his  head  resting  upon  his  hand. 

Johannes  gave  him  a  good  look.  He  seemed  to  have  on  an 
amazingly  big,  spacious  cloak,  full  of  folds;  on  his  head  was 
a  broad-brimmed  hat.  The  one  hand  which  Johannes  could 
distinguish  looked  very  thin  and  white. 

How  familiar  the  man  looked,  though!  Johannes  expected 
immediately  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  well-known  voice.  He 
thought  of  Markus,  then  of  his  father.  .  .  . 

Suddenly,  the  emaciated  hand  was  removed,  and  the  face 
turned  slowly  round  toward  Johannes.  Only  the  white 
beard  came  into  view.  The  rest  remained  in  the  shadow  of 
the  hat.     Then  Johannes  recognized  him. 

"Friend  Hein!"  said  he.  And  he  was  much  more  at  his 
ease  than  the  first  time  he  had  seen  him  —  in  fact,  not  at  all 
afraid. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Death,  nodding.  How  very  kind 
he  looked,  and  how  much  more  human!  Not  a  bundle  of 
bones  with  a  scythe!  He  looked  instead  more  like  a  kind, 
old  —  very,  very  old,  uncle. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Things!"  replied  Death,  drily. 

"Are  we  going  to  be  shipwrecked?" 


THEQUEST  313 

Johannes  had  come  to  this  conclusion  without  any  special 
alarm.  It  even  seemed  to  him  just  now  that  a  shipwreck 
would  be  a  rather  interesting  incident. 

"No,  no!"  said  Death.     "Would  you  really  like  that?" 

"I  would  not  want  it,  but  neither  would  I  be  afraid 
of  it." 

"The  last  time  we  met,  Johannes,  you  asked  me  to  take 
you  with  me." 

"I  would  not  ask  you  that  now,"  said  Johannes;  "life  is  too 
pleasant  now." 

"Then  you  are  not  afraid  of  me  this  time,  Johannes  ?" 

"No;  for  now  you  look  so  much  more  friendly." 

"And  I  am  friendly,  Johannes.  The  more  you  try  your 
best  to  live  a  fine  life,  the  more  friendly  I  become." 

"But  what  do  you  mean,  friend  Hein  ?  I  should  think  the 
finer  life  became,  the  harder  it  would  be  to  leave  it." 

"  It  must  be  the  right  sort  of  fineness,  Johannes  —  the  right 
sort." 

"Then  it  must  certainly  be  that  I  am  seeking  the  right  kind 
now,  or  you  would  not  look  so  much  more  friendly." 

"You  are  indeed  seeking  it,  Johannes;  but  look  w^ell  to  it 
that  you  also  find  it.  Take  care!  Take  care!  I  should  like 
when  I  come  again  to  look  most  friendly,  dear  Johannes,  and 
you  must  be  careful  to  have  it  so." 

"What  shall  I  do,  friend  Hein  ?  How  can  I  be  certain  of 
the  right  way  to  live  ?  How  can  I  make  you  look  friendly 
when  you  come  again  ?" 

But  Death  turned  away  his  pale  face,  gave  a  slight  shake  of 
the  head,  and  continued  to  sit  immovable  and  silent.  Once 
again  Johannes  asked  him  a  question,  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 
Then  his  head  grew  heavy,  his  eyelids  drooped,  and  every- 
thing vanished  under  the  veil  of  slumber,  while  his  resting- 
place  quivered  and  shivered  above  the  heaving  waters. 

When  on  deck,  the  next  morning,  the  world  looked  again 
most  bright  and  cheerful.     The  sun  was  shining  warmly,  the 


314  THEOUEST 

fresh,  blue  sea  was  sparkling  in  the  light,  and  there,  in  front 
of  him  —  there  lay  the  foreign  land  —  a  long  line  of  grey- 
white  coast,  basking  in  the  October  sunshine.  On  the  hills 
Johannes  saw  little  houses  standing  out  in  full  sight;  and  he 
thought  of  the  pettiness  of  life  in  those  houses  —  of  dress- 
ing, of  bread  and  butter,  and  of  little  children  going  to  school; 
—  everything  so  trite  and  trivial,  in  what  for  him  was  so 
strange  and  great. 

They  coursed  up  a  large  river,  much  broader  than  the 
Rhine.  The  sea-gulls  circled  over  the  yellow  water,  and 
rested  on  the  sand-banks  and  the  muddy  shores.  The  fish- 
ing-boats tacked  in  zig-zags  all  about,  and  throngs  of  ships 
and  steamboats  came  to  meet  them.  At  last  there  loomed 
in  the  distance,  enshrouded  with  a  grey  fog,  a  giant  city  —  a 
dark  maze  of  masts  and  chimneys  and  towers.  It  was  sombre, 
awful,  incomprehensible. 

If  Johannes  had  not  been  so  absorbed  in  thinking  of  the 
two  children,  he  would  have  paid  more  attention  to  the  city. 
As  it  was,  he  only  accepted  it  for  a  fact  —  the  unforeseen 
shadow  of  a  mysterious  substance  —  an  ominous  premoni- 
tion, like  the  rumbling  of  the  ground  preceding  an  earth- 
quake: an  instant  later  all  fear  is  over,  and  one  thinks  no 
further  about  it. 

So  it  was  with  Johannes;  the  great  city,  the  miners  —  every- 
thing was  forgotten,  when  he  heard  the  loved  voices  of  the  two 
little  girls. 

They  lived  in  a  country-seat  which  to  Johannes  seemed  a 
small  palace.  It  was  built  of  red  brick  and  grey  limestone, 
and  stood  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  close  by  the  shore.  In  the 
garden  were  dark  cedar-trees  and  holm-oaks,  and  large  plots 
of  rhododendrons.  The  grass  was  short  and  even  —  quite 
like  green  velvet;  and  through  it  led  neat,  trim  paths  of  yel- 
low gravel. 

The  day  was  far  from  being  so  pleasant  as  Johannes  had 
expected.     In  fact,  it  was  very  unpleasant.    To  be  waited  upon 


THE    QUEST  315 

by  a  lackey,  as  one  comes  without  a  trunk,  from  a  third-class 
carriage,  is  far  from  funny.  Johannes  had  not  heretofore 
had  such  a  trying  experience. 

Indoors,  it  was  very  still  and  stately.  The  children  were 
at  their  lessons,  and  for  the  first  hour  were  invisible.  Johan- 
nes received  an  unfavorable  impression  of  fashionable  life. 
He  wished  that  he  had  not  come.  His  hopefulness  and  confi- 
dence suddenly  took  flight.  He  tripped  over  a  rug  of  white 
bearskin,  and  ran  against  a  glass  door,  thinking  it  was  open 
—  just  as  if  he  were  a  bumblebee  behind  a  window-pane. 
He  wondered  which  was  the  quickest  way  out,  and  wished  he 
were  with  Markus  again,  in  the  small  tavern.  He  was  not 
very  far  from  crying. 

On  a  couch  in  the  quiet  reception-room,  beside  a  softly 
crackling  coal  fire,  sat  the  countess.  Johannes  strode  up  to 
her,  and  made  an  awkward  bow.  A  number  of  dogs,  as  many 
as  seven,  snapped  and  yapped  about  his  shin-bones.  He 
thought  of  his  dicky  and  the  green  glass  studs,  and  felt  that 
they  could  be  making  next  to  no  impression.  The  countess 
looked  as  if  she  did  not  quite  remember  who  he  was,  nor 
what  could  have  been  his  object  in  coming. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  in  English,  with  a  formal  smile, 
and  a  weary  tone  of  voice;  "I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant 
journey." 

Johannes  took  a  seat  and,  as  he  did  so,  observed  that  some 
one  else  was  in  the  room.  He  tried  again  to  bow,  but  his 
attempt  was  unnoticed. 

That  other  indeed  was  a  most  impressive  personage.  She 
lay  back  in  an  armchair,  so  enswathed  in  white  lace,  swan's 
down,  gauze,  and  tulle  as  to  look  still  larger  than  she  really 
was.  Upon  her  head  was  a  huge  hat,  bearing  natural-sized 
plums  and  peaches,  artificial  blue  flowers  —  forget-me-nots 
and  corn-flowers  —  besides  a  blue  gauze  veil.  Her  face  was 
amazingly  big,  and  highly  colored  by  nature,  but  toned  down 
with  powder  to  a  rosy  flush.  It  was  somewhat  pimply,  and 
more  or  less  moustached.     Her   fat,  red,  shiny  hands  were 


3i6  THE    GUEST 

rigid  with  jeweled  rings;  and,  althougli  it  was  not  at  all  warm, 
she  waved  incessantly  a  large  fan  of  white  ostrich-feathers, 
in  the  midst  of  which  glittered  purple  and  green  precious 
stones.  Most  wonderful  bangles  of  gold  and  silver  —  little 
pigs,  crosses,  hearts,  and  coins  —  hung  in  a  great  bunch  upon 
her  bosom,  from  a  long,  many-stranded  necklace.  A  slender 
crutch  with  a  gold  handle  stood  beside  her  chair,  and  on  the 
table  at  hand,  a  small  green  parrot  was  eating  grapes.  The 
seven  little  dogs  —  all  of  them  white,  with  pale-blue  ribbons 
around  their  necks  —  probably  belonged  to  her.  They  sat 
in  a  threatening  circle,  as  if  awaiting  the  word,  and  sharply 
eyed  Johannes'  ankles. 

"What  does  that  boy  want?"  she  asked,  in  a  deep,  heavy 
voice,  without  even  looking  at  Johannes.  And  before  and 
answer  could  come,  she  called,  "Alice!" 

Instantly,  there  appeared  from  behind  a  curtain,  just  as  in 
a  comedy,  a  trim,  spruce  lady's-maid.  She  was  dressed  in 
black,  with  cap  and  cuffs  of  dazzling  whiteness.  With  quiet 
little  steps  and  mincing  manners,  she  glided  up  to  the  large 
lady,  and  offered  a  smelling-bottle,  at  which  that  person  began 
to  sniff  industriously. 

Johannes  sat  there  in  extreme  embarrassment.  He  felt 
that  the  costly  cut-glass  smelling-bottle  concerned  himself. 
It  cried  out,  in  the  keen  language  of  its  hundreds  of  cut 
facets,  "You  smell  of  the  third  class!" 

He  sat  like  one  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  all  unnerved,  look- 
ing at  the  smelling-bottle  as  if  he  wished  it  was  a  dynamite 
bomb  which  would  promptly  send  himself,  the  fine  house,  and 
all  his  beautiful  illusions,  flying  into  space. 

Then  Countess  Dolores  came  to  his  rescue. 

"Dear  Lady  Crimmetart,"  said  she,  in  a  coaxing  voice, 
"this  is  a  very  interesting  youth  —  really,  very  interesting. 
He  is  a  young  poet  who  sings  his  own  compositions.  Is  it 
not  so,  Johannes.''  They  are  so  charmingly  melancholy  — 
really,  charmingly  so!  Indeed,  you  must  hear  them,  dear 
friend.     I  am  sure  they  will  please  you." 


THE    QUEST  317 

"Really?"  said  the  deep  voice;  and  the  blue  goggle-eyes  in 
the  frightfully  big  face  glared  at  Johannes. 

"Oh,  yes,  Lady  Crimmetart,"  continued  the  countess; 
"but  that  is  not  all.  Johannes  is  also  a  medium  —  a  sensi- 
tive — who  can  see  all  kinds  of  elementals  —  sometimes  even 
in  broad  daylight.     Is  it  not  so,  Johannes?" 

Johannes  was  too  much  distressed  and  confounded  to  do 
more  than  give  a  nod  of  stupefied  acquiescence. 

"Really?"  said  Lady  Crimmetart,  in  a  voice  like  that  of  a 
ship's  commander  in  heavy  weather.  "Then  he  must  come 
to  my  party  next  Saturday  evening." 

"Do  you  hear,  Johannes?  That  is  a  great  honor,"  said 
Countess  Dolores.  "Lady  Crimmetart  is  one  of  the  clever- 
est women  in  the  world,  and  the  elect  of  intellectual  England 
attend  her  parties." 

"Young  man,"  said  Lady  Crimmetart,  "I  will  let  you  talk 
with  Ranji-Banji-Singh,  of  the  University  of  Benares,  the  great 
Theosophist,  and  with  Professor  von  Pennewitz,  from 
Moscow." 

One  can  well  fancy  what  a  fine  prospect  that  opened  out 
for  poor  little  Johannes!  But  Lady  Crimmetart  did  not  re- 
quest; she  commanded.      It  did  not  seem  possible  to  decline. 

Then  came  another  housemaid  —  just  as  trim  and  still 
and  swift  as  the  first  one  —  to  offer  tea,  little  slices  of  bread 
and  butter,  and  hot  cake.  Johannes  watched  nervously,  to 
see  how  the  others  partook  of  them,  and  then  tried  to  do  as 
they  did.  But,  under  the  cool,  keen  regard  of  the  trig  maid, 
of  course  he  upset  the  milk. 

"The  bishop  is  coming,  too!  The  angel!"  burst  forth 
Lady  Crimmetart. 

Johannes  had  before  his  mind's  eye  the  mitre  and  crozier 
at  the  evening  party.  It  made  him  think  of  Santa  Claus. 
Thereupon  the  ladies  began  chatting  about  church  affairs, 
the  altar  and  the  Lord's  Supper,  elections,  and  corn-laws, 
until  he  could  follow  them  no  further.  At  last  Alice  was  again 
summoned,   the   carriage   ordered,   the   smelling-bottle   stored 


3i8  THE    QUEST 

away  in  a  big  reticule,  the  seven  small  dogs  were  arranged  upon 
a  long,  blue-silk  cord  —  like  a  string  of  beads;  and  thus,  with 
the  parrot  upon  the  hand  of  the  lady's  maid,  the  procession 
passed  out.  At  the  door,  the  great  lady,  who  limped  a  little 
with  gout,  turned  round  once  again,  while  still  fanning  her- 
self, and  thundered:  "Come  on  time,  mind!  And  do  not 
forget  your  instrument!" 

"A  woman  in  a  million,"  said  Countess  Dolores  after  she 
had  gone.  "Is  she  not  a  wonderful  woman,  Jc^hannes  ?  So 
good!     So  clever!" 

"Yes!"  replied  Johannes,  meekly,  his  thoughts  occupied 
anxiously  with  that  instrument  he  was  expected  to  take  to 
the  party. 

At  last  he  heard  the  chattering  of  high-pitched  little  voices, 
and  the  pattering  of  light  little  feet  through  the  quiet  house. 

His  heart  began  to  thump.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  in 
two  seconds  the  dear,  soft  little  hands  put  him  into  a  tumult- 
uous state,  and  the  lively,  high  little  voices  quite  overwhelmed 
him. 

He  was  consoled;  and  when  they  led  him  away,  out-of- 
doors,  and  he  walked  with  them,  one  on  each  side,  over  the 
green  cliffs,  beside  the  broad  ocean  —  then  he  felt  something 
of  the  new  happiness  for  which  he  had  hoped. 

But  at  night  he  could  not  sleep,  and  when  it  grew  light  he 
still  lay  in  a  state  of  excitement,  gazing  at  the  handsome  ceil- 
ing of  dark-brown  wood  whereon  he  could  see  little  gilt  stars. 

He  —  Little  Johannes  —  was  being  entertained  by  a 
countess,  ushered  into  a  sphere  of  refinement,  and  living 
with  the  dearest  little  creatures  to  be  found  among  human 
beings.  He  was  with  his  child  friends  now,  but  yet  he  was 
not  happy.  He  was  much  too  poor  and  too  dull,  and  would 
be  pitifully  mortified  here.  When  he  thought  of  that  glitter- 
ing smelling-bottle,  and  of  the  upset  milk-pitcher,  he  buried 
his  face,  in  shame  and  bitterness,  deep  in  the  pillows. 

Toward  morning,  when  he  fell  asleep  for  a  little  while,  he 


THE    QUEST  319 

dreamed  of  a  big  shop  where  swimming  trousers  only  were 
for  sale  in  a  hundred  varieties  of  color  and  material,  and 
bordered  with  fur,  cloth,  leather,  ermine,  and  velvet,  and 
decked  with  bows  and  monograms.  And  when  Johannes 
went  in  to  select  a  pair  for  the  party,  an  immense  man,  with 
a  long  beard  and  a  high  fur  cap,  stood  up  behind  the  counter. 
It  was  Professor  von  Pennewitz,  and  he  gave  Johannes 
an  examination;  but  Johannes  knew  nothing  —  absolutely 
nothing.  He  failed.  Then  he  was  given  a  stringless  violin, 
and  forced  to  play  upon  it.  The  professor  was  not  pleased 
with  the  performance;  and  taking  off  his  fur  cap, he  completely 
extinguished  Johannes.  Suffocated  with  the  heat  and  close- 
ness, the  boy  found  himself  awake,  and  clammy  with  distress, 
having  been  aroused  by  a  vigorous  tap,  tap,  tap! 


Even  before  his  "ya"  (instead  of  the  "yes"  he  had  firmly 
intended  to  say,  but  was  surprised  out  of  saying),  the  door 
flew  open,  and  the  chambermaid  came  in  bearing  a  big,  sil- 
ver tea-tray.  She  looked  still  more  trig  and  trim  than  the 
day  before,  as  if  all  this  time  she  had  been  standing  under  a 
bell-glass.  Without  the  least  embarrassment,  she  went  up  to 
Johannes  and  presented  the  tea. 

Oh,  woe!  That  was  a  distressing  situation!  Nothing  of 
the  kind  had  befallen  him  since  the  whooping-cough  period 
while  his  mother  was  still  living,  and  when  she  had  brought 
him,  abed,  tea  and  toast.  Daatje  had,  indeed,  come  just 
once  to  call  him,  and  it  had  made  him  angry  because  it  seemed 
as  if  he  were  still  a  child.  In  Daatje's  case,  too,  it  was  quite 
difl^erent.     She  looked  more  like  a  nurse-maid. 

But  this  utterly  strange  and  stylish  little  lady,  with  arranged 
hair,  and  a  cap  with  snow-white  strings,  who  surprised  him  in 
his  nightgown,  sound  and  well,  in  bed,  while  his  dick)'  was  still 
hanging  by  itself  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  the  green  glass 
studs  were  looking  in  a  frightened  way  at  the  rest  of  the  shabby 
clothes  lying  scattered  over  the  table  —  this  housemaid  put 
him  out  of  countenance.  Blushing  deeply,  he  declined  the  tea. 
As  each  of  his  poor  garments  came  under  the  eye  or  hand  of 
this  pert  chambermaid,  he  could  feel  her  scornful,  unuttered 
thoughts,  and  he  lay  dead  still  while  his  room  was  being  put  in 
order.  He  shrank  under  the  sheets  up  to  his  nose,  and  grew 
wet  with  perspiration.  When  the  door  closed  behind  her,  he 
took  breath  again,  and  regarded,  in  astonishment,  the  pitcher 
of  hot  water  and  the  snowy  towels  that  she  had  left  him,  un- 
certain exactly  what  it  was  he  was  expected  to  do  with  them 
all. 

Really,  it  was  no  trifling  matter  for  Johannes  —  that  en- 
trance into  a  higher  and  finer  station. 

320 


THEQUEST  321 

Things  went  rather  better  during  the  forenoon,  for  he  stayed 
with  the  two  children  and  their  German  governess.  With 
this  kind,  every-day  sort  of  person,  Johannes  felt  more  at  his 
ease;  and  he  ventured  to  consult  her  about  his  clothes,  and 
what  he  might,  and  might  not,  do  in  such  a  grand  house. 

The  countess  herself  he  did  not  see  until  afternoon.  Then, 
through  the  medium  of  a  housemaid,  he  received  an  invita- 
tion to  go  to  her.     She  wished  to  talk  with  him. 

She  was  again  resting  on  the  sofa,  and  beckoned  him  to  a 
seat  beside  her.  Johannes  thought  that  she  wished  to  ask 
him  about  something.  But  no!  She  simply  wanted  a  little 
conversation  —  he  must  know  what  about.  Then,  very  natu- 
rally, Johannes  could  not  think  at  all;  and  after  a  painful 
quarter  of  an  hour,  during  which  he  uttered  scarcely  anything 
more  than  "Yes,  Mevrouw!"  or  "No,  Mevrouw!"  he  was  dis- 
missed, still  more  unhappy  than  before. 

The  principal  meal,  at  half-past  eight  in  the  evening,  was 
no  less  distressingly  formal,  and  full  of  trials.  It  was  as  quiet 
as  a  funeral,  voices  were  low  and  whispering,  and  the  servants 
moved  noiselessly  to  and  fro.  The  governess  had  told  Johan- 
nes that  he  must  "dress"  for  dinner.  But  alas!  poor  fellow! 
What  had  he  to  do  it  with  ? 

As  he  stood  behind  his  chair,  in  his  shabby  jacket  and 
dicky,  while  the  rose-shaded  candles  lighted  up  the  flowers 
and  the  glittering  table-furnishings,  and  the  countess  came 
into  the  great  dim  dining-room  in  her  rustling,  silk  attire  — 
then  again  he  felt  really  wretched.  Besides,  it  was  very  awk- 
ward trying  to  talk  English  here,  and  Dutch  seemed  not  to 
be  in  favor.  He  was  conscious  during  each  course  of  doing 
something  wrong  or  clumsy;  and  the  lackeys,  as  they  bent 
over  him  in  offering  the  dishes,  breathed  slightingly  on  his 
neck. 

The  second  night,  being  tired  from  lack  of  sleep,  he  soon 
lost  consciousness.  But  during  the  small  hours  he  had  a 
thrilling  and  stirring  time.  Surely  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you 
what  rude  occurrences  there  may  be  in  one's  dreams.     Raging 


322  THEQUEST 

bulls  tore  after  him  as  he  tried  to  escape,  meeting  him  again 
and  again  at  the  turning  of  a  lane.  There  were  lonely  rooms 
whose  doors  flew  open  of  their  own  accord  —  a  footstep,  and 
a  shadow  around  the  corner  —  of  it!  There  were  railway 
tracks  with  an  oncoming  train,  and,  suddenly  —  paralysis! 
Then  loud  hangings  at  the  door,  and  a  call  of  "Johannes! 
Johannes!"  and,  waking  up,  a  deathly  stillness.  After  that 
he  noticed  some  very  queer  and  most  astonishing  things  in 
the  room  —  a  pair  of  pantaloons  that  walked  away  of  itself, 
and  in  the  corner  a  blood-curdling  phantom.  And  then  he 
was  conscious  of  not  being  awake,  and  of  making  a  desperate 
effort  to  shake  oflT  sleep.  Such  was  the  frightful  time  which 
befell  Johannes  that  night. 

At  last,  when  he  actually  woke  himself  up  with  a  scream 
that  he  heard  resounding  in  the  stillness,  and  while  he  lay  listen- 
inp:  to  the  beating  of  his  heart,  he  also  heard,  like  a  soft  echo 
of  his  cry,  a  fearful,  smothered  moaning  and  lamenting  that 
lingered  in  the  silent  hallways  of  the  darkened  house  When 
all  was  still,  he  thought  it  had  been  a  part  of  his  dreams.  But 
even  while  he  was  lying  wide  awake,  it  began  again,  and  it 
was  such  a  dismal  sound  he  could  feel  the  goose-flesh  forming. 
Then  silence.  "It  must  have  been  a  dog,"  he  thought.  But 
there  it  was!  A  dog  does  not  groan  like  that!  It  was  a  hu- 
man voice.     Could  Olga  or  Frieda  be  ill  ^ 

The  next  time  it  came,  he  knew  it  was  not  the  voice  either 
of  Olea  or  of  Frieda.  It  was  that  of  a  much  older  person  — 
not  an  invalid,  but  some  one  in  mortal  anguish  —  some  one 
being  menaced,  who  was  imploring  pity.  He  heard  some- 
thing like  "Oh!  Oh!  —  O  God,  have  mercy!"  But  he  could 
not  understand  the  words,  for  the  sounds  came  faintly. 

He  thought  a  murder  was  being  committed,  and  he  re- 
called that  Death  had  been  his  fellow  traveler.  He  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  stepped  into  the  dark  hall.  Everything 
was  quiet  there.  The  sound  came  from  upstairs,  and  now 
he  heard,  replying  to  the  groans,  a  calm,  soothing,  hushing 
voice  —  sometimes  commanding,  sometimes  coaxing.     A  door 


THEQUEST  323 

opened,  and  a  faint  light  shone  out.  Another  door  was  opened 
and  then  closed.  All  this  seemed  to  prove  that  Johannes' 
intervention  was  not  at  all  necessary,  and  that  he  would  per- 
haps cut  a  ridiculous  figure  by  attempting  to  step  in  as  a  res- 
cuer. Then,  unnerved  and  miserable,  he  went  to  sleep 
again. 

In  the  morning,  both  little  girls  and  the  governess  partook 
of  their  breakfast  of  tea,  malted  milk,  toasted  bread,  and  ham 
and  eggs,  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  The  mother  was 
to  be  away  again  until  afternoon.  Frieda  and  Olga  sat 
peacefully  and  quietly  eating,  like  well  bred  little  girls. 

At  last  Johannes  could  keep  silence  no  longer,  and  said  to 
the  governess: 

"Did  anything  bad  happen  in  the  night?" 

"No,"  said  the  young  German  lady,  looking  at  her  plate. 
"There  is  an  invalid  in  the  house." 

"Did  you  hear  Helene?"  asked  Olga,  looking  at  Johannes 
earnestly.  "I  never  hear  her  now.  At  first  I  used  to  very 
plainly,  but  now  I  sleep  through  it.     Poor  Helene!" 

"Poor  Helene!"  lisped  Frieda  dutifully  after  her,  resuming 
her  busy  spooning  of  the  malted  milk. 

At  noon  Johannes  was  again  summoned  to  the  drawing- 
room.  He  had  had  a  long  walk,  alone,  beside  the  sea,  and 
felt  more  at  his  ease.  He  had  resolved  to  ask  if  he  might  not 
go  away,  since  he  was  out  of  place  here,  and  felt  unhappy. 
And  the  party  the  next  evening,  at  Lady  Crimmetart's,  where 
he  was  expected  with  an  instrument  —  that  was  too  much 
for  him.     He  must  get  away  before  that. 

But  ere  he  had  a  chance  to  speak  about  it,  his  hostess 
began  thus: 

"Were  you  alarmed  in  the  night,  Johannes.?  Did  you 
hear  anything  ?" 

Johannes  nodded. 

"Well,  now  that  I  trust  you,  fully,  I  will  confide  to  you  my 
sorrowful  secret.     Listen." 


324  THEQUEST 

And  the  estimable  and  attractive  woman  beckoned  him, 
with  her  loveHest  smile,  to  sit  beside  the  sofa,  on  a  low  stool. 

It  made  Johannes  feel  as  if  he  had  been  brought,  nearly 
benumbed,  into  a  warm  room.  Pleasant  tinglings  coursed 
down  his  back,  and  a  fine  feeling  of  contentment  and  secur- 
ity came  over  him.  The  countess  rested  her  soft,  delicate 
hand  upon  his  own,  and  looked  into  his  eyes,  kindly.  How 
beautiful  she  was!  And  what  a  sweet,  caressing  voice  she 
had!  All  the  distress  of  those  recent  days  was  more  than 
amended. 

"I  am  going  to  speak  to  you,  my  dear  Johannes,  as  if  you 
were  much  older  than  you  are.  You  really  do  seem  to  me 
older  and  wiser  than  your  years  would  lead  one  to  expect." 

Johannes  was  charmed. 

"You  must  know,  then,  that  my  life  has  been  full  of  suffer- 
ing. Sorrow  has  been,  so  to  speak,  my  constant  companion, 
from  earliest  youth." 

Johannes'  heart  was  aglow  with  compassion.  In  well- 
chosen  words,  and  in  the  flowing  English  that  Johannes 
more  admired  than  comprehended,  the  lady  continued: 

"My  marriage  was  very  unhappy.  Constrained  by  my 
parents  I  married  a  rich  man  whom  I  did  not  love.  He  is 
dead  now.     I  will  not  speak  any  evil  of  him." 

Johannes  that  instant  made  up  his  mind  to  a  certainty  that 
the  man  had  been  a  wretch. 

"Neither  will  I  trouble  you  with  the  story  of  all  our  misery. 
It  suffices  to  say  that  we  did  not  belong  to  each  other,  and 
each  embittered  the  other's  life.  After  six  years  of  torture  — 
it  was  nothing  else  —  something  happened  .  .  .  what  usu- 
ally happens  in  such  cases.    .    .    .    Do  you  understand?" 

Johannes,  greatly  to  his  vexation,  did  not  understand,  and 
he  felt  himself  to  be  very  stupid. 

"I  became  fond  of  another.  .  .  .  Do  you  think  less  of 
me  for  that  ?" 

"No!  No!"  said  Johannes'  head,  as  he  shook  it  emphat- 
ically. 


THE    GUEST 


325 


"Fortunately,  my  dear  boy,  I  can  say  that  I  have  nothing 
to  reproach  myself  with,  and  can  look  into  the  faces  of  my 
children  without  shame.  The  man  for  whom  I  cared  was 
unhappily  married  —  just  as  I  was.  We  have  never  seen 
each  other  again  —  not  even.    ..." 

There  was  a  pause  in  which  the  voice  of  the  beautiful 
speaker  broke,  while  her  eyes  were  veiled  in  the  tears  that 
she  was  making  an  effort  to  repress.  Johannes'  heart  was 
melting  with  sympathy. 

"Not  even,"  she  resumed,  "when  I  was  free.  My  hus- 
band made  this  the  opportunity  for  taking  away  from  me  my 
two  children.  For  years  I  lived  separated  from  them,  even 
in  poverty  and  privation,  with  only  one  old  servant  who,  not- 
withstanding his  low  wages,  would  not  desert  me. 

"During  that  time,  my  boy,  —  you  may  be  surprised  to 
know  it,  —  I  longed  not  only  for  my  children,  but  even  for 
him  who  had  caused  me  so  much  suffering.  The  mutual 
parentage  of  dearly  loved  children  is  a  wonderful  bond  that 
is  never  completely  severed.  I  would  have  forgiven  him  all 
if  he  had  only  called  me  back." 

A  silence,  in  which  Johannes'  heart,  already  so  inclined  to 
admiration,  surrendered  itself  wholly.     The  lady  continued: 

"I  was  recalled,  but  alas!  too  late.  They  telegraphed  me 
that  he  was  ill,  and  wished  to  speak  with  me.  When  I  ar- 
rived, he  lay  raving,  and  never  recovered  his  reason.  For 
three  days  and  nights  I  sat  beside  him,  almost  without  sleep, 
to  catch  anything  he  might  have  to  say  to  me.  But  he  raved 
and  raved,  incessantly,  uttering  nothing  but  nonsense  and 
inarticulate  sounds.  He  certainly  knew  me;  but  just  the 
same,  he  remained  hard  and  cold  —  sometimes  taunting, 
sometimes  angry  and  abusive.  Never  shall  I  forget  that 
night   ..." 

With  my  own  two  children  I  found  an  older  girl  whom  I 
had  never  seen.  They  told  me  she  was  a  child  of  a  former 
union.  I  had  never  even  heard  of  her.  Where  the  mother 
was,  no  one  could  say.     It  was  thought  she  was  not  living. 


326  THEQUEST 

The  girl  was  then  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  beautiful,  with  a 
brilliant  color,  a  fine  profile,  and  flowing  black  hair." 
"More  beautiful  than  Frieda  or  Olga  ?"  asked  Johannes. 
The  countess  smiled. 

"Quite  another  kind  of  beauty.  Much  more  gloomy  and 
melancholy.  When  I  went  to  her,  she  sat  crying,  and  would 
pay  no  attention  to  me.  'Every  one  dislikes  me,'  she  kept 
saying.  And  she  repeated  this  all  day  long.  She  did  nothing 
but  walk  back  and  forth,  crying  and  lamenting.  Only  with 
the  greatest  trouble  could  she  be  induced  to  rise  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  be  dressed,  and  in  the  evening,  to  go  to  sleep.  Her 
mind  was  diseased,  and  little  by  Httle  it  has  grown  worse. 
My  husband  died,  and  I  remained  with  the  three  daughters, 
caring  for  them  as  well  as  I  could." 

Countess  Dolores  studied  for  a  while  her  beautiful,  gem- 
adorned  hands,  and  then  went  on,  with  frequent  pauses. 

"Helene  knew  very  little  concerning  her  mother;  but  she 
steadfastly  maintained  that  she  was  living,  and  would  return, 
and  also  .  .  .  that  her  father  and  mother  had  been  mar- 
ried.  .    . 

Another  prolonged  silence,  the  countess  regarding  Johan- 
nes with  her  lightly  half-closed  eyes,  to  see  if  he  understood. 
Apparently  he  did  not  understand;  for  he  sat,  in  unsuspect- 
ing patience,  waiting  for  whatever  else  was  to  be  said. 

"Can  you  fancy,  Johannes,  what  that  would  signify  to  me 
.    .    .   to  my  children    ...    if  it  were  true?" 

Johannes  fancied  only  that  he  was  looking  at  the  speaker 
in  a  somewhat  confounded  and  sheepish  manner. 
"Bigamy,  Johannes,  is  a  terrible  crime!" 
Wait! —    A  light  broke  in  upon  him,  albeit  a  feeble  one. 
His  dearly  loved  children,  then,  were  not  legal  —  were  ille- 
gitimate—  natural,  or  whatever  it  was  called.     Yes,  indeed! 
That  was  terrible,  even  though  no  one,  to  look  at  them,  would 
ever  think  it.     But  the  countess  enlightened  him  still  further. 
"The  idea  of  living  upon  the  property  of  another,  Johannes, 
is,  to  a  woman  of  honor,  insufferable!" 


THEQUEST  327 

What  more  ?  The  property  of  another  ?  Then  all  this 
suniptuousness,  belonged,  perhaps,  to  poor,  crazed  Helene; 
and  his  dear,  pretty  children  and  their  beautiful  mother  were 
only  illegal  intruders  —  usurpers  of  another's  possessions! 

Johannes  faithfully  tried  his  best  to  feel  as  the  speaker  did 
about  all  these  curious  and  confusing  things.  But  he  did  not 
succeed.  Then,  in  his  desire  to  comfort  her,  he  gallantly 
uttered  in  broken  English  whatever  came  into  his  head. 

"No,  Mevrouw;  you  must  not  think  that.  You  are  beauti- 
ful and  your  children  are  beautiful,  and  therefore  everything 
that  is  beautiful  belongs  to  you,  I  do  not  believe  you  have 
cause  to  be  ashamed,  for  I  have  seen  no  sign  of  it.  If  there 
were  any  disgrace,  I  should  have  detected  it.  And  how  is 
any  one  to  suppose  that  such  evidence  exists  either  on  paper 
or  in  some  secret  closet  or  other  —  who  knows  where  ?  Are 
you  and  Frieda  and  Olga  any  less  beautiful,  less  lovely, 
less  good  ?  I  do  not  care  a  bit  about  it.  Absolutely 
nothing." 

The  countess  laughed  so  heartily,  and  pressed  his  hand  so 
warmly,  that  Johannes  was  embarrassed. 

"Oh,  you  lovely  boy!"  she  laughingly  cried.  "Oh,  you 
queer,  funny,  darling  of  a  boy!  How  you  cheer  me  up!  I 
have  not  been  so  light-hearted  in  a  long  time." 

Johannes  was  very  glad,  and  proud  of  his  success.  Coun- 
tess Dolores  dried  her  tears  of  laughter  upon  her  lace  hand- 
kerchief, and  resumed: 

"  But  now  we  must  be  in  earnest.  It  will  be  clearer  to  you 
now  why  I  am  so  interested  in  all  that  pertains  to  spiritual- 
ism and  theosophy  —  why  I  listen  so  eagerly  to  the  wisdom  of 
Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee,  and  of  Lady  Crimmetart  —  why  I 
attend  the  circle  of  the  Pleiades,  at  the  Hague  —  and,  too, 
why  it  made  me  so  happy  to  meet  you,  when  I  heard  that  you 
also  were  a  medium,  and  could  see  the  elementals,  in  full 
daylight." 

"But  why,  Mevrouw?"  asked  Johannes,  in  some  distress. 

"How  can  you  ask  that,  my  dear  boy!     Nothing  can  ever 


328  THE    QUEST 

bring  back  my  peace  of  mind,  except  one  word  from  him, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  grave  !  " 

Ah  !  but  that  was  a  hard  blow  for  Johannes.  He  was 
not  so  troubled  at  having  been  invited  as  a  guest,  for  a 
side  purpose — he  was  not  so  overweening  as  that  —  but 
because  he  was  surely  going  to  be  a  disappointment  to  his 
beloved  countess.  With  a  sigh  he  looked  down  at  the 
carpet. 

"Shall  we  not  make  a  call  upon  the  invalid?"  asked  the 
lady,  rising. 

Johannes  nodded,  and  followed  her. 

The  door  of  the  sick-room  was  barely  open,  when  a  pitiable 
scream  rang  out  from  the  corner.  The  poor  girl  sat  on  the 
floor,  huddled  up  in  her  nightgown,  her  long  black  hair  dis- 
heveled, and  hanging  down  over  face  and  back.  Her  beauti- 
ful dark  eyes  were  widely  distended,  and  her  features  wore  an 
expression  of  mortal  anguish. 

"Oh,  God!  —  It  is  coming!"  she  shrieked,  trembling. 
"Now  it  will  happen!  Oh,  God!  It  surely  will!  I  know 
it  will!  There  it  comes!  Did  I  not  say  so?  Now  it  comes! 
—Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" 

The  nurse  hushed  and  commanded,  but  the  poor,  tormented 
creature  trembled  and  wept,  and  seemed  so  desperately 
afraid,  that  Johannes,  greatly  moved,  begged  leave  to  go 
away  again.     It  seemed  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  him. 

"No,  my  boy!"  said  the  countess.  "It  is  not  on  account 
of  you.  She  does  that  way  whoever  comes  in.  She  is  afraid 
of  everybody  and  everything  she  sees  or  hears. 

That  whole  day,  and  a  good  deal  of  the  night,  Johannes 
mused  over  this  one  query:  "Why  —  ix.]}-^  is  that  poor  girl 
so  afraid  ?" 


VI 

Johannes  did  not  leave,  and  at  last  came  the  day  of  the 
dreaded  party.  Having  grown  more  confident,  he  had  spoken 
of  his  needs.  The  carriage  put  in  an  appearance,  and  in  the 
neighboring  town,  he  was  soon  provided  with  suitable  clothing. 

Still,  his  mind  was  not  quite  at  rest. 

"Will  you  also  say,  dear  lady,"  said  Johannes  that  after- 
noon, when  with  the  children  and  their  mother,  "that  I  truly 
cannot  play  upon  any  instrument  ?  Please  don't  ask  me  to 
do  anything!" 

"But,  Johannes,"  urged  the  countess,  "that  would  really 
be  very  disagreeable  in  me.  After  what  I  have  said,  something 
will  be  expected  of  you." 

"I  cannot  do  anything!"  said  Johannes,  in  distress. 

"He  is  joking.  Mama,"  said  Olga;  "he  can  play  the  cas- 
tanets and  can  imitate  animals." 

"Oh,  yes!  all  kinds  of  animals!  Awfully  nice!"  cried 
Frieda. 

"Is  that  so,  Johannes?     Well,  then.''" 

It  was  true  that  Johannes  had  amused  his  two  little  friends 
while  they  were  taking  walks  together  —  miniicking  all  sorts 
of  animal  sounds,  like  those  of  the  horse,  donkey,  cow,  dog, 
cat,  pig,  sheep,  and  goat.  He  had  whistled  like  the  birds  so 
cleverly  that  the  two  little  girls  had  been  enraptured.  And 
one  single  instrument  he  did  indeed  play  admirably  —  the 
genuine  boys'  castanets  that  every  schoolboy  and  street  urchin 
in  Holland  carries  in  his  pocket  certain  months  of  the 
year.  Many  an  autumn  day,  sauntering  home  from  school, 
he  had  shortened  the  way  for  himself  with  the  sharp,  clear, 
uninterrupted  "a-rick-a-ty,tick-a-ty//V/:/ — a-rick-a-ty,tick-a-ty 
tick!  —  a-rick-a-ty,  tick-a-ty  tick!  —  tack!  tack!" 

The  little  girls  now  begged  him  to  let  their  mama  hear.    So 

329 


330 


THE    QUEST 


he  took  out  his  castanets,  which  he  himself  had  made  while 
there,  and  cHcked  away  with  them  lustily. 

"Delightful!"  cried  the  countess.  "Now  you  must  sing 
and  dance  at  the  same  time,  like  the  Spaniards." 

Johannes  shied  at  the  dancing.  But  indeed  he  would  sing. 
And  he  sang  all  kinds  of  street  ditties,  such  as  "Oh,  Mother, 
the  Sailor!"  and  "Sara,  you're  losing  your  Petticoat,"  to  the 
merry  music  of  the  castanets.   The  children  thought  it  splendid. 

Their  enthusiasm  excited  him,  and  he  began  improvising 
all  sorts  of  nonsense.  The  little  girls  clapped  their  hands, 
and  the  longer  he  played  the  more  merry  they  grew.  Johan- 
nes struck  an  attitude,  and  announced  his  selections  just  as  if 
he  were  before  an  audience.  The  countess  and  her  daughters 
went  and  sat  in  a  row  —  the  little  girls  wild  with  delight. 

"Sketches  from  Animal  Life,"  announced  Johannes,  begin- 
ning, to  the  time-keeping  accompaniment  of  the  castanets,  the 
well-known  air  from  The  Carnival  of  Venice, 

"A  hen  that  came  from  Japan 
Assured  a  crippled  toad 
She'd  never  have  him  for  her  man. 
That  was  a  sorry  load." 

The  little  girls  shouted  and  stamped,  with  glee. 
"More,  Jo!  —  More,  more,  Johannes!     Do!" 
"Splendid!"  cried  the  countess,  speaking  in   Dutch,  now. 
herself. 

"A  rhinoceros  said  to  a  louse, 

'I'll  stamp  you  flat  on  the  ground!' 
The  louse  made  tracks  for  his  house. 
And  there  he  is  now  to  be  found. 

"A  grasshopper  sat  In  the  grass, 
And  said  to  a  chimpanzr^'.- 
*  Your  coat  I  will  thank  you  to  pass, 
That  I  may  attend  a  part/V.' 


THEQUEST  331 

"A  snoop  who  stood  on  the  stoop 
Asked  of  his  fellow  boarder 
If  hairs  he  found  in  the  soup. 

The  hostess?  —  'Twas  malice  toward  her! 

"A  crab  who  enjoyed  a  joke, 
Gave  his  mama  a  kick. 
And  when  she  dropped  at  his  poke. 
He  laughed  till  the  tears  fell  thick." 

"Hey,  there!"  the  little  girls  shouted  boisterously.  "Jolly! 
More,  more!     Jo!" 

"A  stock-fish,  deaf-and-dumb  born. 

Once  said  to  a  billy-goat: 
'Of  my  head  I  see  I  am  shorn  ■ — 
'Twas  you  did  it,  silly  goat!'" 

"There,  there,  Johannes!  That  will  do.  Now  you  are 
getting  foolish,"  said  the  mother. 

"Oh,  no.  Mama!  Only  funny!"  cried  Frieda  and  Olga. 
"He  is  so  funny!     Go  on,  Jo!" 

But  Johannes  was  quite  disconcerted  by  the  mother's  com- 
ment, and  there  was  no  further  exposition  of  "Sketches  from 
Animal  Life." 

In  the  evening  Johannes  drove  with  the  countess  in  the 
state-coach  to  Lady  Crimmetart's.  Milady  dwelt  in  a  very 
handsome  house  —  a  castle  in  a  large  park.  From  a  distance, 
Johannes  could  see  the  brightly  lighted  windows,  and  also 
the  vehicles  in  front  of  the  pillars,  at  the  entrance. 

Overhead,  an  awning  was  spread,  and  a  long  strip  of  heavy, 
bright-red  carpeting  laid  down,  so  that^  the  guests  might  be 
protected  in  passing  from  their  carriages  to  the  magnificent 
vestibule.  The  w^ay  was  lined  with  lackeys  —  full  twenty  on 
each  side.  They  looked  very  impressive,  all  of  them  tall  and 
heavy,  wearing  knee-breeches  of  yellow  plush,  and  red  lace- 


332  THEQUEST 

trimmed  coats.  Johannes  was  puzzled  because  they  all 
seemed  to  be  such  old  men.  Their  hair  was  white  as  snow. 
That  was  powder,  however,  and  it  added  to  their  dignity. 
How  small  and  shabby  Johannes  felt  while  running  the  gaunt- 
let of  those  liveried  lackeys! 

Indoors,  Johannes  was  completely  blinded  by  the  dazzling 
light.  He  ascended  a  vaulted  staircase,  the  broad  steps  of 
which  were  of  many-colored  marble.  He  saw  vaguely,  flowers, 
electric  lamps,  variegated  carpets,  broad,  conspicuously 
white  expanses  of  shirt-linen  bordered  with  black  coat,  and 
bare  necks  adorned  with  gems  and  white  lace.  He  heard 
a  subdued  murmur  of  soft  voices,  the  rustling  of  silk  clothing, 
the  announcement  of  names. 

In  the  background,  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  the  swollen 
visage  of  Lady  Crimmetart  was  glowing  like  a  railway  danger- 
signal.  All  the  guests  went  up  to  her,  and  their  names  being 
spoken,  each  one  received  a  bow  and  a  handshake. 

"What  name,  sir?"  asked  a  colossal  lackey,  as  he  bent 
obliquely  over  Johannes.  Johannes  stammered  out  some- 
thing, but  the  countess  repeated  it,  changed. 

"Professor  Johannes,  of  Holland!"  he  heard  called  out. 
He  bowed,  received  a  handshake,  and  saw  the  powdered  face 
smiling  —  or  grinning  —  with  affected  sweetness.  Lady 
Crimmetart's  neck  and  arms  were  so  fat  and  bare  that  Johan- 
nes was  nearly  terrified  by  them,  and  did  not  dare  look  straight. 
They  were  loaded  with  precious  stones  —  big,  flat,  square, 
uniformly  cut  diamonds,  alternating  with  pear-shaped  pearls. 
Three  white  ostrich  feathers  bobbed  in  her  head-dress.  There 
were  no  animals  at  her  side,  but  of  course  she  had  her  fan  and 
her  gold-headed  crutch. 

"How  do  you  do?"  inquired  the  deep  voice.  But  before 
Johannes  could  reply  that  he  was  pretty  well,  she  addressed 
herself,  with  a  grinning  smile,  to  the  next  comer.  Beside  her 
stood  a  short,  heavily  built  man.  He  had  a  shiny,  bald  head, 
a  red  face  with  deeply  cut  lines,  and  a  large,  bony  nose.  It 
was  precisely  such  a  head  as  one  sees  carved  upon  knobs  of 


THEQUEST  ^^^ 

walking-sticks  and  parasols.  It  was  Lord  Crimmetart  who 
stood  there,  and  he  gave  Johannes'  hand  a  firm  clasp. 

For  an  hour  or  so  Johannes  wandered  about  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd.  He  felt  dispirited  and  lonesome  to  begin  with; 
and  the  babel  of  voices,  the  sheen  and  rustle  of  silken  gar- 
ments, the  glitter  of  lights  and  of  precious  stones,  the  uniforms, 
bare  necks,  and  white  shirt-fronts,  and  the  heavy  scent  of  per- 
fumery and  of  flowers,  —  all  this  oppressed  him  until  he  be- 
came deeply  dejected.  There  was  such  a  press  of  people 
that  at  times  he  could  not  stir,  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
talked  straight  into  his  face.  How  he  longed  for  a  quiet  cor- 
ner and  an  every-day  companion!  Everybody  except  himself 
had  something  to  say.  There  was  no  one  among  those  pass- 
ing by  so  forlorn  as  he.  He  did  not  understand  what  they 
all  could  be  saying  to  one  another.  The  scraps  of  conversa- 
tion that  did  reach  him  were  about  the  stir  in  the  room  and 
the  magnificence  of  the  party.  But  the  saying  of  that  was  not 
the  reason  for  their  having  come  together. 

Johannes  felt  that  the  feast  of  the  elves  in  the  dunes  had 
been  far  more  pleasant. 

Then,  strains  of  music  reached  him  from  a  stringed  orches- 
tra hidden  behind  green  laurel.  That  awakened  longings 
almost  painful,  and  he  drew  closer,  to  sit  down,  unobserved, 
and  let  the  people  stream  by.  There  he  sat,  with  moistened 
eyes,  looking  dreamily  out  before  him,  while  his  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  quiet  dunes  and  sounding  seas  on  a  moonlit 
night. 

"Professor  Johannes,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Professor 
von  Pennewitz,"  rang  suddenly  in  his  ears.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
startled.  There  stood  Lady  Crimmetart  beside  a  diminu- 
tive man,  whose  scanty  grey  locks  hung  down  to  his  coat- 
collar.     The  vision  was  little  like  Johannes'  dream. 

"This  is  a  youthful  prodigy.  Professor  von  Pennewitz  — 
a  young  poet  who  recites  his  own  compositions.  At  the  same 
time  he  is  a  famous  medium.  You  certainly  will  have  inter- 
esting things  to  say  to  each  other." 


334 


THE    GUEST 


Thereupon,  Lady  Crimmetart  disappeared  again  among 
the  other  guests,  leaving  the  two  bowing  to  each  other  — 
Johannes  abashed  and  perplexed,  von  Pennewitz  bowing  and 
rubbing  his  hands  together,  teetering  up  and  down  on  his 
toes,  and  smiling. 

"Now  for  the  examination!"  thought  Johannes,  waiting 
in  mute  patience  —  a  victim  to  whatever  wise  questions 
the  great  man  was  to  pillory  him  with. 

"Have  you  —  ah  —  known  the  family  here  for  long?" 
asked  von  Pennewitz  —  opening  and  closing  his  thin  lips  with 
a  sipping  sound,  while  with  fingers  affectedly  spread,  he  ad- 
justed his  eyeglasses,  peering  over  the  tops  of  them  at  Jo- 
hannes. 

"No,  I  do  not  know  them  at  all!"  replied  Johannes,  shak- 
ing his  head. 

"No?"  said  von  Pennewitz,  rubbing  and  wringing  his 
hands,  most  cheerfully.  And  then  he  continued,  in  broken 
English: 

"Well,  well!  That  pleases  me.  Neither  do  I.  Curious 
people!     Do  you  not  think  so,  young  man  ?" 

Johannes,  somewhat  encouraged  by  this  affability,  gave  a 
hesitating  assent. 

"Have  you  such  types  in  Holland,  also?  Surely  upon  a 
more  modest  scale?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  —  These  people  are  as- 
tonishingly rich!  Have  you  tried  their  champagne?  —  No? 
Then  you  must  just  come  with  me  to  the  buffet.  It  is 
w^orth  the  trouble,  I  can  assure  you." 

Happy,  now,  to  be  at  least  walking  with  some  one,  Johan- 
nes followed  the  little  man,  who  piloted  him  through  the  packed 
mass  of  people. 

Arrived  at  the  buffet  they  drank  of  the  sparkling  wine. 

"But,  sir,"  said  Johannes,  "I  have  heard  that  Lady  Crim- 
metart is  so  very  clever." 

"Have  you,  indeed?"  said  the  Professor,  looking  again  at 
Johannes  over  the  top  of  his  glasses,  and  nodding  his  head. 
"I  have  nothing  to  say  about  that.     Much  traveled  —  papa 


THE    QUEST  335 

a  boarding-house  keeper  —  a  smattering  of  almost  everything. 
Nowadays  one  can  get  a  good  deal  out  of  the  newspapers. 
Do  you  read  the  papers,  young  man  ?" 

"Not  much,  sir,"  said  Johannes. 

"Good!  Be  cautious  about  it.  Let  me  give  you  some 
extra-good  advice.  Read  few  newspapers,  and  eat  few  oysters. 
Especially  in  Rome  eat  no  oysters.  I  have  just  come  from  a 
fatal  case  of  poisoning  —  a  Roman  student." 

Johannes  mentally  resolved,  on  the  spot,  to  eat  anything  in 
Rome  rather  than  oysters. 

"Is  Lord  Crimmetart  also  so  clever.  Professor?"  asked 
Johannes. 

"He  is  bright  enough.  In  order  to  become  a  Lord  and  an 
arch-millionaire  by  means  of  patent  pills  alone,  one  needs  to 
be  a  bright  rascal.     Just  try  it!     Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

The  professor  laughed  heartily,  snorted  and  sniffed,  clicked 
his  false  teeth,  and  finished  off  his  glass.     Then  he  said: 

"But  take  care,  young  man,  that  you  do  not  marry  before 
you  have  made  your  pile.  That  was  a  stupid  move  of  his. 
He  would  be  able  to  do  very  much  better  now.  If  he  chose, 
he  might  win  Countess  Dolores." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Johannes'  head,  and  he  flushed  deeply, 

"I  am  staying  there,  sir!"  said  he,  considerably  touched. 

"Is  that  so.''  Is  that  so?"  replied  the  professor,  in  a  pro- 
pitiatory tone.  "  But  I  said  nothing  about  her,  you  know.  A 
most  charming  woman.  A  perfect  beauty.  So  she  is  your 
hostess?     Well,  well,  well!" 

"There  is  His  Grace,  the  bishop!"  cried  the  heavy  voice 
of  Lady  Crimmetart,  as  she  passed  by,  hurrying  toward  the 
entrance. 

Johannes  was  on  the  qui  vive  for  the  white  mitre  and  the 
gilded  crozier,  but  he  could  see  only  a  tall,  ordinary  gentle- 
man in  a  black  suit,  and  wearing  gaiters.  He  had  a  smooth, 
good-looking  face,  that  bore  an  affected  smile;  and  in  his 
hand  he  held  a  curious,  flat  hat,  the  brim  of  which  was  held 


336  THEOUEST 

up  with  cords,  as  if  otherwise  it  might  droop  down  over  his 
nose.  Lady  Crimmetart  received  him  quite  as  warmly  as 
Aunt  Serena  received  the  dominie.  How  Johannes  wished  he 
was  still  at  his  Aunt  Serena's! 

"Sir!"  said  some  one  at  his  ear,  "Milady  wishes  to  know 
if  you  have  brought  your  instrument,  and  if  you  will  not  begin 
now." 

Johannes  looked  round,  in  a  fright.  He  saw  a  portly  per- 
sonage with  an  upstroked  moustache,  in  black  satin  short- 
clothes,  and  a  red  coat  —  evidently  a  master  of  ceremonies. 

"I  have  no  instrument,"  stammered  Johannes.  But  he 
did  have  his  castanets  in  his  pocket.  "I  cannot  do  any- 
thing," he  repeated  —  most  miserable. 

The  pompous  one  glanced  right  and  left,  as  if  he  had  made 
some  mistake.  Then  he  stepped  away  a  moment,  to  return 
soon,  accompanied  by  Countess  Dolores. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear  Johannes  ?"  said  the  countess.  "You 
must  not  disappoint  us." 

"But,  Mevrouw,  I  really  cannot." 

The  pompous  one  stood  by,  looking  on  in  a  cool,  impassive 
way,  as  if  quite  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  freaks  who  w^ere 
considered  youthful  prodigies.  Johannes'  forehead  was  wet 
with  perspiration. 

"Indeed  you  can,  Johannes!     You  are  sure  to  do  well." 

"What  shall  I  announce?"  asked  the  pompous  one.  Jo- 
hannes did  not  understand  the  question,  but  the  countess  re- 
plied, in  his  stead. 

In  a  twinkling  he  was  standing  beside  a  piano  encircled  by 
guests,  and  he  saw  hundreds  of  eyes,  with  and  without  eye- 
glasses, fastened  upon  him.  Straight  in  front  —  next  Lady 
Crimmetart  —  sat  the  bishop,  looking  at  him  severely  and 
critically,  out  of  hard,  cold,  light-blue  eyes. 

The  master  of  ceremonies  called  out,  loudly  and  clearly: 

"National  Hymns  of  Holland."  And  then  poor  Little 
Johannes  had  to  clap  and   sing  —  whatever  he  could.     To 


THE    QUEST  337 

keep  up  courage,  he  threw  just  a  glance  at  the  beautiful  face 
of  the  countess,  with  its  near-sighted  eyes  —  and  tried  to 
think  it  was  for  her  alone  that  he  sang.  He  did  his  best,  and 
sang  in  tremolo  from  "Oh,  Mother,  the  Mariner!"  and  "We 
are  going  to  America,"  to  "The  Hen  from  Japan,"  and  "The 
Tiger  of  Timbuctoo"  —  his  entire  repertory. 

They  listened,  and  looked  at  him  as  if  they  thought  him 
a  queer  specimen;  but  no  one  laughed.  Neither  the  goggle- 
eyes  of  the  hostess,  nor  the  stern  regard  of  the  bishop,  nor 
one  of  the  hundreds  of  other  pairs  of  eyes  pertaining  to  these 
richly  dressed  and  excellent  ladies  and  gentlemen,  evinced 
the  slightest  token  of  emotion,  happy  or  otherwise.  That 
was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at,  since  they  did  not  understand 
the  words;  but  it  was  not  encouraging.  Without  loss  of  time, 
most  of  them  turned  away  their  attention,  and  began  anew 
their  laughing  and  chattering. 

When  he  stopped,  there  sounded,  to  his  astonishment,  a 
lone  hand-clapping,  and  Countess  Dolores  came  up  to  him, 
gave  her  hand,  and  congratulated  him  upon  his  success. 
Lady  Crimmetart,  also,  thundered  out  that  it  was  "awfully 
interesting."  A  tall,  thin  young  lady,  in  white  satin,  whose 
prominent  collar  bones  were  but  slightly  concealed  by  a  ten- 
fold necklace  of  pearls,  came,  smiling  sweetly,  to  press  his 
hand.  She  was  so  happy,  she  said,  to  have  heard  the  Car- 
nival of  Venice  in  the  original,  by  a  veritable  resident  of  the 
city.  "How  peculiarly  interesting!  But  it  must  be  so  nice. 
Professor  ...  ah!  I  have  lost  your  name!  .  .  .  so  nice  to 
live  in  a  city  lying  wholly  under  water,  and  where  everybody 
wears  wooden  shoes!" 

"Was  that  entirely  your  own  composition.  Professor  Jo- 
hannes?" inquired  a  plain,  good-natured  Httle  lady,  in  a 
simple  black  gown.  And  several  other  women,  of  riper  years, 
sought  to  introduce  themselves.  He  really  brightened  up  a 
little  at  these  tokens  of  approval,  although  he  rather  mis- 
trusted their  sincerity.  When,  however,  he  found  himself 
beside  a  group  of  tall,  broad-shouldered  Britishers,  with  high 


338  THEQUEST 

collars,  florid,  smooth-shaven  cheeks,  and  trim,  closely- 
cropped,  wavy,  blonde  hair,  who,  one  hand  in  the  trousers' 
pocket,  stood  drinking  champagne,  he  heard  such  expressions 
as  "beastly,"  "rot,"  and  "humbug,"  and  he  very  well  knew 
that  the  words  were  applied  to  himself. 

Shortly  after  this  it  became  clear  to  him  w^hat  constitutes 
genuine  success.  A  robust  young  lady,  with  very  artfully  • 
■  arranged  hair,  and  pretty  white  teeth,  sang,  accompanied  by 
the  piano,  a  German  song.  With  her  head  swaying  from 
side  to  side  and  occasionally  tossed  backward,  and  with  her 
mouth  open  very  wide,  she  threw  out  trills  and  runs,  like  a 
veritable  music-box>  The  sound  of  it  all  pierced  through  to 
Johannes'  very  marrow.  What  her  song  was  intended  to  say, 
it  was  hard  to  tell,  for  she  spoke  a  remarkable  kind  of  Ger- 
man. Apparently,  she  was  exciting  herself  over  a  faithless 
lover,  or  mistress,  and  dying  —  out  of  sheer  affection. 

When  she  had  ended,  and  made  a  sweet,  smiling  bow,  a 
vigorous  round  of  applause  followed,  with  cries  of  "bis,"  and 
"encore."  Johannes  had  not  himself  received  such  acclaim, 
nor  would  he  now  take  part  therein. 

In  his  dejection,  he  went  to  find  Countess  Dolores.  She 
was  the  only  one  there  to  whom  he  could  turn  for  comfort. 
He  asked  if  he  might  not  take  his  leave,  since  he  was  tired,  and 
did  not  feel  at  home  where  he  was. 

The  countess  herself  appeared  not  to  be  very  well  satis- 
fied; she  had  won  no  honors  through  him,  nevertheless  she 
said: 

"Come,  my  boy,  do  not  be  discouraged!  You  have  still 
other  gifts.     Have  you  spoken  with   Ranji-Banji-Singh  ?" 

A  little  earlier,  Johannes  had  seen  the  tall  East-Indian, 
with  head  erect,  and  a  courtly  carriage,  striding  through  the 
motley  crowd.  He  had  wide  nostrils,  large,  handsome  eyes 
with  somewhat  drooping  lids,  a  light-brown  complexion, 
splendid  blue-black  hair,  and  a  sparse  beard.  He  wore  his 
white  turban,  and  yellow  silk  clothing,  with  solemn  ceremo- 
niousness.     When   any  one    spoke    to   him,   he   smiled   most 


THEQUEST  339 

condescendingly,  and,  closing  his  eyes,  he  laid  his  slender  hand, 
with  its  pale  nails  and  upturned  finger-tips,  upon  his  bosom, 
and  made  a  profound  and  graceful  bow. 

Johannes  had  noticed  him  especially,  as  one  to  whom  he 
felt  more  attracted  than  to  any  other;  and  he  had  visions  of 
deep,  blue  skies,  majestic  elephants,  rustling  palms,  and  palace 
facades  of  pale  marble,  on  the  banks  of  the  Sacred  River. 
However,  he  had  not  dared  to  address  him. 

But  now  the  countess  and  Johannes  went  to  find  him,  and 
find  him  they  did,  beside  Lady  Crimmetart,  in  a  circle  of 
ladies  to  whom  he  appeared  to  be  speaking  in  rotation,  with 
a  courtly  smile. 

"Mr.  Ranji-Banji-Singh,"  said  Countess  Dolores,  "have 
you  made  the  acquaintance  of  Professor  Johannes,  of  Hol- 
land .''  He  is  a  great  medium,  and  you  certainly  will  find 
him  sympathetic." 

The  East-Indian  showed  his  white  teeth  again,  in  a  winning 
smile,  and  gave  his  hand  to  Johannes.  The  boy  felt,  how- 
ever, that  it  was  not  given  from  the  heart. 

"But  are  you  not  also  a  medium,  Mr.  Singh?"  asked  one 
of  the  ladies,  "such  a  great  theosophist  as  you!" 

Ranji-Banji-Singh  threw  back  his  head,  made  with  his 
clasped  hands  a  gesture  as  if  warding  off  something,  and 
smiling  disdainfully,  said,  in  broken  English: 

"Theosophists  not  mediums.     Mediums  is  organ-grinders 
—  theosophist,     composer.     Medium-tricks     stand     low;  — 
street-jugglery  for  gold.     Theosophist  and  Yogi   can   every- 
thing, all  the  same  —  can  much  more,  but  not  show.     That 
is  meanness,  unworthiness!" 

The  slender  brown  hand  was  shaken  in  Johannes'  face,  in 
an  endeavor  to  express  its  owner's  contempt,  while  the  dark 
face  of  the  East-Indian  took  on  an  expression  of  one  com- 
pelled to  drink  something  bitter. 

That  was  too  much  for  Johannes,  Feeling  himself  mis- 
understood by  the  only  one  upon  whom  he  cared  to  make  a 
good  impression,  he  said,  angrily: 


340  THEQUEST 

"I  never  perform  tricks,  sir.  I  exhibit  nothing.  I  am 
not  a  medium." 

"Not  by  profession  —  not  a  professional  medium,"  said 
Countess  Dolores,  to  save  the  situation. 

"Then  you  do  not  practise  table-tilting,  nor  slate-w^riting, 
nor  flower-showering?"  asked  the  East-Indian,  while  his  face 
cleared. 

"No,  sir!  Nothing  whatever!"  said  Johannes,  emphat- 
ically. 

"If  I  had  known  that!"  exclaimed  Lady  Crimmetart, 
while  her  eyes  seemed  almost  rolling  out  of  her  head.  "But, 
Mr.  Singh,  can  you  not,  just  for  this  one  time,  show  us  some- 
thing ?  Let  us  see  something  wonderful  ?  A  spinning  tam- 
bourine, or  a  violin  that  plays  of  itself?  Do,  now!  When 
we  ask  you  so  pleadingly,  and  when  I  look  at  you  so  fondly! 
Come!" 

And  she  cast  sheep's  eyes  at  Mr.  Ranji-Banji-Singh  in  a 
manner  which  did  not  in  the  least  arouse  Johannes'  envy. 

The  theosophist  bowed  again,  smiling  with  closed  eyes,  but 
at  the  same  time  contracting  his  brows  as  if  struggling  with 
his  aversion. 

Then  they  went  to  a  boudoir  having  glass  walls  and  exotic 
plants  —  a  kind  of  small  conservatory,  in  a  soft  twilight. 
There  they  seated  themselves  at  a  table,  with  the  East-Indian 
in  the  circle.  Johannes  was  promptly  excluded  with  the 
words:  "Antipathetic!     Bad  influence!" 

"That's  Keesje,  yet  —  surely!"  thought  Johannes. 

Then  there  was  writing  upon  slates  held  by  Mr.  Singh  in 
one  hand,  under  the  table.  The  scratching  of  the  pencil 
could  be  heard,  and  soon  the  slate  reappeared  —  covered 
with  writing  in  various  languages  —  English,  Latin,  and 
Sanscrit.  These  sentences  were  translated  by  the  East-In- 
dian, and  appeared  to  contain  very  wise  and  elevating 
lessons. 

But  Johannes  had  the  misfortune  to  notice  that  the  slate 
which  should  have  been  written  upon  was  quickly  exchanged 


THEQUEST  341 

by  the  theosophist  the  instant  that  he  succeeded  in  divert- 
ing the  attention  of  all  the  on-lookers.  And  Johannes  added 
to  his  inauspicious  observation  the  imprudent  exclamation  — 
loud  and  triumphant  —  "I  see  it  all!  He  is  exchanging 
slates!" 

A  regular  riot  ensued.  Yet  Ranji-Banji-Singh,  with  the 
utmost  calmness,  brought  the  exchanged  slate  to  light  again, 
and,  with  a  triumphant  smile,  showed  that  it  was  without 
writing.  Johannes  looked  baffled,  yet  he  knew  to  a  certainty 
that  he  had  seen  the  deception,  and  he  cried:  "I  saw  it, 
nevertheless!" 

"For  shame!"  thundered  Lady  Crimmetart.  And  all  the 
other  ladies  cried  indignantly,  "Disgraceful!" 

Ranji-Banji-Singh,  with  a  taunting  smile  said:  "I  have 
compassion.  Yogi  knew  not  hate,  but  pity  evil-doer.  Bad 
Karma.     Unhappy  person,  this!" 

That  did  not  agree  with  what  Herr  van  Lieverlee  had 
said.  He  had  commended  Johannes'  Karma.  But  Countess 
Dolores,  now  realizing  that  she  was  to  have  no  further 
satisfaction  out  of  her  protege,  at  once  withdrew,  and  quite 
good-naturedly,  so  that  he  might  not  feel  at  all  reproached. 
Indeed,  she  comforted  him,  with  her  friendly  jests. 

Johannes  saw  some  daily  papers  lying  in  the  hall  of  Count- 
tess  Dolores'  house.  Against  the  advice  of  Professor  von 
Pennewitz,  he  began  running  them  through.  His  eyes  re- 
mained glued  to  the  page,  for  he  saw  there  a  communication 
from  Germany,  to  the  effect  that  the  miners'  strike  had  ended. 
The  laborers  had  lost  the  battle. 

The  sleepless  night  that  ensued  seemed  very  long  to  him. 
Poor  Helene,  also,  was  restless,  and  wailed  and  wailed  with- 
out pause. 


VII 

Be  brave  now,  for  my  story  is  going  to  he  truly  sombre  and 
shuddery.  Truth  can  sometimes  appear  very  hhick;  hut  if 
we  only  dare  to  look  her  straight  in  the  eye,  she  smiles,  in  the 
end,  brightly  and  blithely. 

Only  those  who  are  afraid  of  her,  and  turn  halfway  back, 
will  be  caught  and  held  fast  in  the  meshes  of  gloom  and 
misery. 

You  have,  doubtless,  known  all  along  that  there  was  some- 
thing utterly  amiss  in  Johannes'  fine,  new  life  —  that  he  had 
made  a  pitiful  mistake,  and  was  all  at  sea.  He,  also,  knew 
it  now,  although  he  would  not  admit  it  to  himself.  Those 
joyful  expectations  had  not  been  prompted  by  the  Father's 
voice,  and  he  knew  now  that  one  could  be  misled  by  positive 
impressions. 

However,  he  was  not  yet  out  of  the  scrape.  To  acknowl- 
edge again  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  —  to  leave  this  life 
and  return  to  Markus  and  Marjon,  was  a  hard  thing  to  do. 
Here  were  far  greater  attractions  than  Aunt  Serena's  rasp- 
berries and  fresh  rolls.  When  he  thought  of  the  garden  at 
Vrede-best,  ah,  how  eagerly  he  longed  to  be  there  again!  But 
that  which  held  him  here  had  a  much  stronger  hold  upon 
him,  for  he  would  not  admit  to  himself  that  it  would  be  better 
to  leave  it.  That  he  should  be  an  intimate  little  friend  of 
this  beautiful,  distinguished  woman — that^  above  all  things  — 
preoccupied  him  day  and  night. 

Did  you  ever,  late  at  night,  when  you  ought  to  have  been 
in  bed,  read  a  very  captivating  book  ?  You  knew  then,  did 
you  not,  that  it  was  not  good  for  you  —  that  you  would  be 
sorry  for  it  ^.  Perhaps  you  even  found  the  book  to  be  dull  or 
base.  And  yet  you  could  not  break  off,  but  read  on  and  on, 
just  one  more  chapter,  to  see  how  it  ended. 

34i 


THEQUEST  343 

That  was  the  way  with  Johannes,  in  the  pretty  villa  of 
Countess  Dolores. 

He  stayed  on,  week  after  week,  month  after  month,  writing 
nothing  to  Holland,  nor  to  Aunt  Serena  —  nothing  to  his 
Brother,  nor  to  Marjon,  either  because  of  he  knew  not  what, 
or  because  he  was  ashamed. 

One  thought  alone  prevailed  over  all  others;  what  would 
she  say  when  he  should  have  another  talk  with  Countess 
Dolores,  and  what  should  he  reply  ?  Would  she  stroke  his 
hair,  or  even  press  a  kiss  upon  it,  as  once  she  had  done  — 
the  same  as  with  her  two  little  daughters  ? 

Perhaps  you  have  never  yet  been  in  love.  If  you  never 
have,  you  cannot  know  what  all  this  means.  But  it  is  not  a 
slight  matter,  and  there  is  nothing  in  it  to  rail  about. 

Johannes  himself  did  not  quite  know  what  had  happened. 
He  only  felt  that  never  yet  in  his  life  had  anything  so  perplex- 
ing and  distressing  come  to  him. 

It  was  so  wonderful,  too.  It  gave  him  pain  —  sharp  pain 
—  and  yet  it  was  sweet  to  him,  and  he  welcomed  it.  It  caused 
him  anguish  and  anxiety,  and  yet  he  would  not  run  away  from 
it.     It  was  so  contradictory  —  so  confounding! 

One  sultry,  stormy  evening  he  took  a  lonely  walk  over  the 
cliffs,  and  followed  a  narrow  path  lying  close  to  the  grey 
steeps  at  the  foot  of  which  the  breakers  were  pounding. 

He  saw  the  sun  go  down  behind  great  masses  of  clouds, 
just  as  he  had  formerly  done.  But  now  how  different  it  was! 
How  cold  and  strange  it  seemed!  He  felt  left  out.  Life — ■ 
cruel,  human  life — with  its  passions  and  entanglements, 
now  had  him  in  its  grasp. 

It  seemed  agonizing  and  frightful,  as  if  a  great  monster  had 
pursued  him  to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  and  were  still  close  behind. 
And  now  Nature  had  become  strange  and  inhospitable. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  cried  to  the  clouds: 

"Oh,  help  me,  clouds  with  the  silver  lining!"  But  the 
clouds  rolled  on  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of  the  wonderful 
shapes   they   assumed    at   every   turn  —  ever   changing,    and 


344  THEOUEST 

adorned  anew  with  glittering  gold  and  gleaming  silver.  And 
all  the  while  the  sea  was  roaring  just  as  if  it  had  no  memory 
whatever  of  Johannes. 

And  when  he  had  cried  "Help  me,  clouds  with  the  silver 
lining!"  the  words  clung  to  his  mind,  and,  like  shining  angels, 
they  beckoned  other,  sister  words,  still  lingering  in  the  depths 
of  his  soul,  to  come  and  join  them.  And  so  the)'  came  —  one 
after  another,  in  twinkling  file,  and  fell  into  line.  Their  faces 
seemed  more  serious  than  did  ever  those  of  his  own  words. 

"Help,  oh,  help  me,  ye  silver-lined  clouds! 

Oh,  save  me,  sun  and  stormy  sea! 

To  thee  I  fly  from  stifling  haunts  of  men. 

L'tfe^  with  its  frightful,  crimson-flaming  hands, 

Has  laid  its  hold  on  me. 

Once  I  was  thy  friend  and  confidant  — 

At  home  in  thy  mysterious  loneliness. 

I  explored  without  fear  thy  boundless  space 

And  celestial  mansions  buildcd  I  there 

With  the  mere  light  of  stars,  and  the  waves  of  wind. 

Peace  I  found  in  thy  grandeur  stern, 

And  rest  in  thy  bright  expanse. 

Now,  life  sweeps  me  on  with  its  current  swift, 

And  a  seething  volcano  I  find  where  erst 

Was  an  ocean  serene  of  exalted  delights. 

Alas!  thou  doest  rest  in  thy  splendor  immersed  — 

As  cool  as  a  lion  licking  his  paws. 

All  slowly  the  cloud  is  transformed, 

Letting  the  light  stream  through, 

And  the  tossing  main  with  sparks  is  clad, 

As  if  with  a  golden  coat  of  mail. 

Ah,  beautiful  world!     Untrue  and  unreal 

Thou  glidest  away  'neath  mv  anguished  eyes. 

The  ocean  roars  ever,  and  silent  are  sun  and  clouds. 

Sadly,  I  see  the  strange  daylight  fail. 

It  leaves  mc  alone  vsith  still  stranger  night. 


THEQUEST  345 

Oh!  may  I  yet  find  there  my  Father's  spirit, 
That  dwells  beyond  sun  and  sea  and  clouds  ? 
Must  I  join  with  the  hapless,  hopeless  throng 
And  bind  my  sorrowful  fate  to  theirs, 
Until  the  Great  Leveler  bring  surcease?" 

What  Johannes  meant  by  the  "Great  Leveler"  he  did  not 
himself  know  at  first.  Neither  did  he  at  all  realize  that  he 
had  composed  something  better  than  formerly.  But  in  the 
night  he  understood  that  it  was  Death  he  had  meant.  And 
he  knew,  also,  that  something  within  him  had  opened  to  the 
light,  like  an  unfolding  flower. 

He  felt  that  the  verses  might  be  sung  like  a  song,  but  he 
could  not  hear  the  melody  —  or  but  faintly  —  like  wind- 
wafted  tones  from  the  farthest  distance.  At  night,  he  heard 
in  his  dreams  the  full  strain,  but  in  the  morning  he  had  en- 
tirely forgotten  it.     And  Marjon  was  not  there  to  help  him. 

You  must  remember  that  Little  Johannes  was  no  longer 
so  very  little.  Nearly  four  years  had  passed  since  that  morn- 
ing when  he  had  waked  up  in  the  dunes,  with  the  little  gold 
key. 

He  could  not  refrain  from  reading  the  poem  to  the  countess 
on  the  following  day.  The  making  of  it  —  the  writing  and 
rewriting  —  had  calmed  the  unrest  out  of  which  it  had  come. 
He  was  curious,  now,  to  learn  what  others  would  say  of  it  — 
above  all,  the  one  who  was  ever  in  his  thoughts. 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  she,  after  he  had  read  it  aloud,  "life  is 
fearful!  And  that  'surcease'  is  all  that  I  long  for.  I  fully 
agree  with  you." 

This  remark,  however  kind  the  intention  of  the  speaker, 
gave  Johannes,  to  his  own  astonishment,  small  pleasure.  He 
would  have  preferred  to  hear  something  different. 

"Do  you  think  it  good?"  he  asked,  with  a  vague  feeling 
that  he  really  ought  not  to  ask  the  question,  because  he  had  been 
so  very  much  in  earnest  over  the  verses.  And  when  one  is 
deeply  in  earnest  about  anything  one  does  not  ask  if  it  is  good  ; 


346  T  H  E    O  U  E  S  T 

no  more  than  he  would  ask  if  he  had  wept  beautifully.  But  yet 
he  would  have  liked,  so  well,  to  know  what  she  thought. 

"I  do  not  know,  Johannes.  You  must  not  hope  for  a  crit- 
icism from  me.  I  think  the  idea  very  sympathetic,  and  the 
form  seems  to  me  also  quite  poetic.  But  whether  or  not  it  is 
good  poetry,  you  must  ask  of  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee.  He 
is  a  poet." 

"Is  Mijnheer  van  Lieverlee  coming  soon  ?" 

"Yes;   I  expect  him  shortly." 

One  fine  day  Van  Lieverlee  put  in  an  appearance.  With 
him  arrived  a  host  of  merrily  creaking,  yellow  trunks,  smelling 
delightfully  like  russia  leather  —  ditto  high-hat  box,  and  a 
brisk,  smooth-shaven,  traveling-servant. 

Van  Lieverlee  wore  in  his  button-hole  a  dark-red  rose,  and 
pointed  pale-green  carnation  leaves. 

He  was  very  much  at  his  ease  —  contented  and  gay  —  and 
when  he  saw  Johannes  he  did  not  appear  to  have  a  very  clear 
remembrance  of  him. 

That  evening  Johannes  read  to  him  the  poem.  Van  Liev- 
erlee listened,  with  an  absent-minded  expression  of  face,  while 
he  drummed  on  the  arm  of  the  low,  easy-chair  in  which  he 
lay  indolently  outstretched.  It  looked  very  much  as  if  the 
verses  bored  him. 

When  it  was  over,  and  Johannes  was  waiting  in  painful 
suspense,  he  shook  his  head  emphatically. 

"All  rhetoric,  my  worthy  friend  —  mere  bombast!  'Oh! 
Alas!'  and  *Ah!'  All  those  are  impotent  cryings  which  show 
that  the  business  is  beyond  you.  If  you  had  full  control  of 
expression,  you  would  not  utter  such  cries  —  you  would  form, 
shape,  knead,  create,  model  —  tnoJel!  Plasticity,  Johannes! 
That  is  the  thing  —  vision,  color,  imagery!  I  see  nothing  in 
that  poem.  I  want  something  to  see  and  taste.  Just  think  of 
that  sonnet  of  mine!  Every  line  full  of  form,  of  imagery,  of 
real,  actual  things!  With  you,  there  is  nothing  but  vague 
terms  —  weak  swaggering  —  all  about  the  spirit  of  your 
Father,  and  such  things  —  none  of  them  to  be  seen.     And,  to 


THE    QUEST  347 

produce  effect,  you  call  upon  the  other  words:  'Ah!'  and 
'Alas!'  and  'Oh!'  as  if  that  helped,  at  all.  Any  cad  could  do 
that  if  he  fell  into  the  water.     That  is  not  poetry." 

Johannes  was  completely  routed.  And  although  his  hostess 
tried  to  console  him  with  assurances  that  if  he  did  his  best 
things  would  go  better  with  him  by  and  by,  when  he  was  a 
little  older,  it  was  of  no  avail.  Johannes  already  knew  that 
it  was  quite  in  vain  for  him  to  attempt  his  best,  so  long  as  the 
inspiration  he  so  much  needed  was  withheld. 

His  night  was  a  sad  one;  for  the  serious  words  of  the  poem 
were  continually  before  him,  and  to  think  that  they  had  been 
disdained  was  indeed  torture.  They  would  not  be  driven 
away,  but  remained  to  vindicate  their  worth.  And  then  he 
wished  that  others,  as  well  as  he,  should  value  them.  But 
his  powerlessness  and  his  own  mistrust,  were  a  grievous 
vexation. 

In  the  small  hours,  he  had  just  fallen  asleep  —  probably 
for  only  a  few  minutes  —  when  he  awoke  again  with  the  feel- 
ing that  his  room  was  full,  but  with  what  kind  of  company 
—  human  beings  or  other  creatures  —  he  could  not  tell.  He 
did  not  see  them;  for  just  in  the  place  where  he  was  looking 
there  was  no  one,  and  where  he  wanted  to  look,  he  could  not. 
He  seemed  to  be  prevented  from  doing  so  by  a  strange  power. 

He  heard  a  laugh,  and  the  sound  was  very  familiar  to  him. 
It  was  a  dismal,  old-time  memory.     It  was  Pluizer's  laugh. 

Could  Pluizer  be  in  the  room  ? 

Johannes  tried  his  best  to  look  at  the  spot  whence  the  sound 
came.  Exerting  himself,  he  saw  something  at  last  —  not  an 
entire  figure,  but  hands  only  —  two,  four,  six  little  hands, 
busily  doing  something.  Higher  up,  to  what  was  above  the 
hands,  he  could  not  look  —  but  that  they  were  the  hands  of 
Pluizer  he  was  quite  positive. 

There  was  something  in  those  hands  —  a  white  band  —  and 
the  little  hands  were  very  busy  tying  all  kinds  of  knots  in  it. 
And  all  the  while  there  was  continuous  laughing  and  snicker- 
ing, as  if  it  was  great  fun. 


348  THEQUEST 

What  could  that  mean  ?  Johannes  felt  that  something 
menaced.  The  play  of  those  little  hands  portended  danger. 
Most  plainly  of  all  he  saw  the  white  band  —  a  common,  white 
tape. 

Then  the  hands  went  out  of  the  room,  and  Johannes  was 
forced  to  follow  them.  In  another  room  —  that  of  Helene's 
nurse  —  there  they  were,  as  busy  as  ever,  this  time  with  a  pair 
of  scissors.  The  scissors  had  fallen  upon  the  floor  close  to  a 
toilet-table.  One  point  having  stuck  through  the  carpet  into 
the  floor,  there  they  stood  —  erect.  The  invisible  one  was 
laughing  again  —  giggling  and  snickering  —  and  all  six  little 
hands  were  pointing  at  the  scissors. 

A  light  was  burning  in  Helene's  room,  but  the  poor,  sick 
girl  was  not  now  complaining.  All  was  quiet  there.  The 
door  opened,  and  the  nurse  came  out,  leaving  it  open  behind 
her.  The  nurse  went  to  her  own  room  to  look  for  something. 
She  was  a  long  time  searching,  but  could  not  find  it.  Surely 
it  was  the  scissors. 

All  this  time  they  were  sticking  by  one  point,  in  the  carpet 
behind  the  toilet-table,  and  the  six  little  hands  were  pointing 
at  them.  But  the  seeker  apparently  neither  saw  the  hands 
nor  heard  the  laughter. 

Johannes  could  not  help  her.  He  had  to  follow  the  hands. 
He  still  heard  giggling  and  snickering,  and  saw  the  little  hands 
go  away  —  downstairs,  through  the  hall,  outside. 

Save  for  the  shining  of  the  stars  —  sharp  and  clear  in  the 
black  sky  —  it  was  still  very  dark  out-of-doors. 

On  the  terrace,  there  was  visible  to  Johannes,  a  tall,  dark 
figure.  He  could  look  at  it  better  than  at  the  sneering  ones. 
He  recognized  it,  instantly.  It  was  He  with  whom  he  had 
traveled  by  sea. 

The  dark  figure  now  took  the  lead  with  slow,  firm  strides. 
Pluizer  went  next,  but  in  between  these  two  there  was  a  third. 

It  was  quite  impossible  fi)r  Johannes  to  look  at  that  third 
one.     When  he  tried  to  look,  he  felt  an  indescribaiije  agony. 

That  third  one!     Yes,  he  certainly  knew  it  well.     It  was//.' 


THEQUEST  349 

Do  you  understand  ?  The  It  which  lies  in  wait  around  the 
corner,  outside  the  door,  while  you  dream  of  being  alone  in  a 
dark  room,  vainly  trying  to  call  for  help. 

//,  the  most  frightful  object!  —  so  frightful  that  no  one  can 
either  look  at  or  describe  it. 

These  three  now  passed  down  the  dark  avenue  of  the  park 
until  they  came  to  the  black  pool  lying  deathly  still  and 
calmly  expectant  —  shining  beneath  the  starlight. 

There  the  three  sat  down  and  waited. 

It  was  still  as  still  could  be.     Not  a  leaf  rustled. 

The  star-tips  on  the  water  were  as  sharply  defined  as  points 
of  light  upon  fathomless  darkness. 

"Prettily  planned;  don't  you  think  so?"  said  Pluizer. 

It  grumbled,  sneeringly. 

Thereupon  good  Death,  in  a  soft,  restful  voice,  said: 

"Yet  all  is  for  the  best!" 

Then  again  they  sat  very  still.  Johannes  waited  with  them 
for  he  could  not  do  otherwise. 

The  sound  of  a  door  was  heard  in  the  still  night  air,  and  a 
white  figure  drew  near,  with  light,  swift  steps.  By  the  faint 
starlight  Johannes  saw  the  slender  girl  in  a  white  nightdress, 
her  black  hair  flowing  loose. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  still  at  the  edge  of  the  pool.  Jo- 
hannes could  see  her  eyes  shining  with  both  terror  and  joy, 
like  those  of  one  pursued  who  sees  escape.  He  tried  to  call 
or  to  move,  but  could  do  neither. 

Then  the  girl  waded  into  the  water  with  her  arms  extended 
as  if  to  embrace  it.  She  went  cautiously,  so  that  the  water 
neither  plashed  nor  spattered;  only,  the  star-points  were 
broken  up  and  became  long  stripes,  and  serpentine  lines  of 
light.  These,  after  the  white  garment  could  be  seen  no  more, 
still  continued  —  dancing  up  and  down  with  the  ripples. 

"We  have  her!"  sneered  Pluizer. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  said  good  Death. 

At  once,  Johannes  found  himself  awake,  in  his  own  bed. 


350  THEOUEST 

He  had  been  wakened  by  noises,  cries  of  anguished  voices, 
hasty  runnings  hither  and  thither  through  the  hallwa}'s  of  the 
house,  and  by  the  opening  and  shutting  of  doors. 

"Helene!  Helene!"  rang  through  the  halls,  in  the  garden, 
in  the  park.     "Hek'ne!     Helene!" 

Jonannes  dressed  himself,  not  overhastily,  for  he  knew  it 
was  too  late. 

The  members  of  the  household  were  already  gathered  in  the 
large  vestibule.  The  poor  nurse,  with  a  startled  face  of 
deathly  pallor,  came  in  from  the  garden. 

"I  cannot  find  her  anywhere,"  she  cried.  "It  is  my  fault 
—  my  fault!" 

She  sat  down  and  becan  to  sob. 

"Come,  dear,"  said  the  countess,  in  her  tranquil  voice, 
"do  not  reproach  yourself.  She  may  be  back  again  in  no 
time;  or  perhaps  the  servants  will  find  her  in  the  town." 

"No,  no,"  shrieked  the  poor  nurse.  "She  has  long  wanted 
to  do  it,  and  I  knew  it.  I  never  left  her  door  unfastened. 
But  this  time  I  only  thought  to  be  gone  two  seconds.  She 
had  knotted  a  tape  into  a  tangle,  and  I  wanted  to  get  my  scis- 
sors. But  I  could  not  find  them  .  .  .  and  then  .  .  .  O 
God!  How  could  I  be  so  stupid!  I  can  never  forgive  my- 
self.    Oh,  my  God,  my  God!" 

Could  not  Johannes  have  run  quickly  to  the  pool,  and  told 
what  he  knew  ?  No,  for  he  also  knew,  quite  as  surely,  that 
it  was  too  late.  And  before  he  could  have  done  it,  the  men 
came  to  say  she  had  been  found.  He  saw  her  borne  into  the 
house,  wrapped  in  a  checked  bed-cover. 

And  when  he  saw  them  making  vain  endeavors  to  resus- 
citate her  he  remarked  that  he  feared  it  would  do  no  good. 
And  he  added,  "Indeed,  I  don't  fear  —  but  I  hope  so." 

"For  her  sake,"  said  the  countess. 

"Surely  for  her  sake,"  repeated  Johannes,  in  some  surprise. 

Van  Lieverlee  had  not  appeared.  But  when  the  corpse  of 
the  beautiful  girl  had  been  placed  upon  her  death-bed,  her 


THE    QUEST 


351 


slender  hands  crossed  upon  her  breast,  her  hair  —  still  moist 
—  laid  in  heavy  braids  about  the  delicate,  sallow  little  face, 
the  dark  lashes  nearly  closed  over  the  sightless  eyes,  white 
lilies  and  snowdrops  all  around,  then  Van  Lieverlee  came  to 
see. 

"Look,"  said  he  to  Johannes,  "this  is  very  pretty.  I 
would  not  have  cared  to  see  her  taken  from  the  water.  A 
drowned  person  is  nearly  always  an  ugly  spectacle.  Even 
the  most  beautiful  girl  becomes  repulsive  and  clownlike  when 
being  dragged  out  of  the  water  by  leg  or  arm,  with  face  and 
hair  all  duck-weed  and  mud.  But  this  is  worth  while.  Mind, 
Johannes,  genuine  artists  are  always  lucky.  They  come 
across  the  beautiful,  everywhere.  Such  an  event  as  this  is, 
for  a  poet,  a  rare  bit  of  good  luck." 

The  next  day  he  was  deep  in  the  making  of  poetry.  But 
Johannes  was  in  a  restless,  introverted  mood,  and  could  find 
no  words  for  what  distressed  him. 


VIII 

A  FEW  days  later,  the  two  guests  were  sitting  with  their 
hostess  at  the  afternoon-tea  table. 

"Is  it  not  a  frightful  thought,"  said  Countess  Dolores, 
"that  the  poor  girl  cannot  yet  have  rest,  but  must  do 
penance  for  her  sinful  deed?" 

"I  cannot  believe  it,"  said  Johannes. 

"But  yet  it  was  a  sin." 

"I  would  certainly  forgive  her." 

"By  which  we  perceive,  Dolores,"  broke  in  Van  Lieverlee, 
"that  Johannes  is  much  more  kind-hearted  than  his  beloved 
Lord." 

"But  why,  Johannes,  can  you  not  assure  us  about  that 
of  which  I  have  so  often  asked?"  said  the  countess  again. 
"Can  you  not  put  yourself  into  communication  with 
her?" 

"No,  Mevrouw,"  replied  Johannes. 

"  But  your  Mahatma,  Johannes!"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  "He 
can  do  it  all  right.     It  is  child's  play  for  him." 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking?"  asked  the  hostess,  looking 
with  quickened  interest  at  Van  Lieverlee. 

"Of  his  Mahatma.  Has  he  never  told  you  about  his 
Mahatma?" 

"Not  a  word,"  said  the  countess,  a  little  pettishly,  while 
Johannes  maintained  a  mortified  silence. 

"Well,  Johannes  knows  a  sage  —  a  Yogi  —  a  great  Magi- 
cian. He  saw  him  come  ashore  from  over  the  North  Sea  — 
which  phenomenon  might  be  termed  levitation  —  and  this 
Magician  traveled  with  him  in  disguise." 

"  But,  Johannes,  why  have  you  never  told  me  that  ?  It  was 
not  kind  of  you.  You  knew  how  much  I  have  longed  for  the 
advice  of  such  a  person." 

Johannes  knew  very  little  to  tell.     That  question  exactly 

352 


THE    QUEST  353 

concerned  what  was  most  perplexing  and  distressing  to  him 
in  this  situation. 

Something  there  was  that  always  restrained  him  from  speak- 
ing of  Markus  —  yes,  even  the  thought  of  him  was  baffling. 
And  yet  how  much  he  longed  for  him!  But  he  felt  that  that 
longing  was  opposed  to  the  other  longings  which  held  him 
where  he  was. 

"I  believe,"  he  said  at  last,  timidly,  "that  he  does  not  like 
it  when  I  talk  about  him." 

"Of  course,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  "but  only  in  the  case  of 
the  uninitiated  —  the  common  herd." 

"Do  you  count  me  in  with  them  V  asked  his  hostess  in  her 
most  engaging  manner. 

"No,  do!"  protested  Johannes,  with  great  earnestness. 
^'But  neither  do  I  know  where  he  is." 

"He  well  knows,  however,  where  zue  are,"  said  Van  Liever- 
lee, "and  if  we  desire  to  see  him,  he  will  come  to  us." 

"He  surely  will  not  come  here,"  said  Johannes. 

"Why  not?" 

Johannes  could  not  explain  why,  but  the  countess  said: 

"Then  we  will  go  to  Holland  and  have  him  come  to  our 
club." 

That  gave  Johannes  a  thrill  of  joy.  But  ah!  he  realized 
at  the  same  time  how  cold  and  unresponsive  he  had  become 
to  the  beautiful  which  had  brought  him  thither.  The  two 
children  were  indeed  just  as  captivating,  but  they  did  not 
give  him  the  same  happiness  as  before.  And  he  began  grad- 
ually to  dislike  Van  Lieverlee. 

In  Holland,  Countess  Dolores  dwelt  in  a  villa  between  a 
large  town  and  the  ocean.  And  when  Johannes  was  there 
again,  and,  though  knowing  better,  was  expecting  to  re-see 
his  beloved  dunes,  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  convinced 
that  Pan  was  indeed  dead,  and  Windekind's  kingdom  at 
an  end. 

Civilization    had    conquered    the    dunes.     Long,    straight, 


354  THE    QUEST 

barren  streets  led  out  to  them,  and  house  after  house,  all  ex- 
actly alike  —  as  tedious  as  they  were  ugly  —  lined  the  com- 
fortless way.  Sand  drifted  through  the  dreary,  brick-paved 
streets,  and  shavings,  bits  of  tin,  and  great  pieces  of  tattered 
wall-paper  were  strewn  about  the  intervening  spaces.  Build- 
int^s  were  being  put  up  everywhere.  Of  the  beauty  and 
mystery  of  the  dunes  there  was  nothing  left  —  only  dismal, 
dust-littered  heaps  of  sand. 

The  ocean  also  was  spoiled  for  Johannes,  for  here  there  were 
great  crowds  of  people,  come  for  the  sake  of  society,  or  else 
for  the  music.  And  even  when  they  w^ere  gone  there  still  re- 
mained the  ugly  buildings  they  had  erected. 

Countess  Dolores  seemed  indeed  to  share  Johannes'  aver- 
sion and  disappointment.  Not  so  Van  Lieverlee.  Here  he 
was  in  his  element  —  dressing  himself  most  gorgeously,  mak- 
ing visits,  and  attending  the  principal  clubs,  restaurants,  and 
concerts. 

"Romance  is  dead,  my  friend,"  said  he.  "You  must  have 
life  —  Life  with  a  capital  letter.  Life  is  Passion.  Art  is 
Passion.  Life  is  Art  —  rude,  real  life  —  one  day  gloriously 
luxurious,  the  next  day  coarse  and  loathsome.  You  must 
not  dream  of  the  past,  Johannes,  but  live  in  the  present.  And 
you  must  experience  everything,  take  a  part  in  and  enjoy 
everything,  and  despise  everything.  You  must  lead  lite  by  the 
nose — ■  seize  it  by  the  throat  and  force  it  to  do  your  bidding. 
Get  tipsy  with  life  —  spew  it  out  of  your  mouth  —  strike  it  flat 
to  earth  —  sling  it  at  the  clouds  —  play  upon  it  as  upon  a  violin 
—  stick  it  in  your  buttonhole,  like  a  gardenia  —  roll  with  it 
in  the  gutter,  and  consort  with  it  in  orgies  of  supremest  pas- 
sion. Study  it  in  its  hideous  nakedness  and  vilcness,  and 
subjugate  it  to  your  dearest  dreams  of  blood  and  gold." 

This  oration  was  delivered  in  the  evening  after  Van  Liever- 
lee had  dined  with  his  friends.  Later,  Johannes  observed 
that  Van  Lieverlee  liked  best  to  study  the  hideous  phases 
i)f  life  from  a  safe  distance,  and  to  choose  for  himself  the 
easy   and   pleasant  ones. 


THE    QUEST  355 

Visitors  from  very  respectable  circles  came  to  Dolores'  villa  ; 
and  already,  at  the  receptions  preceding  the  seances  of  the 
Pleiades,  Johannes  had  met  the  members  of  that  "  ideal  com- 
munity of  ideals  in  common." 

There  were,  of  course,  besides  the  countess  and  Van  Liever- 
lee,  only  five  others;  and  when  Johannes  hesitated  to  add  to 
this  number  of  seven,  he  was  assured  that  the  Constellation 
was  composed  of  eight  visible  stars,  besides  a  great  many 
others  not  visible  to  the  naked  eye. 

The  leader  was  a  General  with  a  gold-embroidered  collar 
and  a  grey,  closely-cut  beard.  He  had  a  powerful,  command- 
ing voice,  and  spoke  with  great  respect  of  the  present  dynasty. 
Johannes  wondered  that  he  could  think  of  anything  other 
than  cannon  and  battles;  but  it  appeared  that  he  had  a  very 
gentle  heart,  and  was  extraordinarily  curious  concerning  the 
immaterial  and  the  life  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave. 

He  even  seemed  to  be  conscious  that  his  blood-thirsty  trade 
did  not  tally  with  his  philosophical  researches,  and  therefore 
preferred  that  no  one  should  know  he  belonged  to  this  ideal 
community  —  a  weakness  common  to  all  the  members  of  the 
Pleiades. 

Then  there  were  a  senator  and  his  wife  —  both  of  them  very 
courtly  and  fashionable  persons.  The  husband  had  exqui- 
sitely cut  grey  hair,  and  a  handsome  white  beard,  small  hands, 
and  thin  legs.  The  wife,  who  was  an  invalid,  had  a  languish- 
ing voice,  a  discontented  face,  and  a  manner  that  became 
earnest  and  excited  as  soon  as  things  were  mentioned  of  high- 
est import  to  the  society. 

Then  there  was  Professor  Bommeldoos  —  an  impressive 
man,  who  certainly  would  have  been  chosen  as  leader  had  it 
not  been  known  that  at  heart  he  scorned  and  condemned  such 
researches.  He  took  part  only  at  the  urgent  request  of  the 
countess,  to  whose  beauty  he  was  not  insensible,  for  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  pure  science  she  desired  him  to  be  present.  Pro- 
fessor Bommeldoos  was  awfully  learned  —  his  Greek  was  as 
fluent  as  water,  and  he  had,  so  to  speak,  every  conceivable 


356  THEQUEST 

system  of  philosophy  under  his  thumb.  He  was  so  much 
taken  up  with  himself  that  he  paid  no  attention  to  any  reply 
he  might  have  received  to  his  discourse.  He  thought  only  of 
his  own  words,  and  if  he  did  not  receive  instant  assent,  or  if 
some  one,  with  a  bow,  wished  to  differ  from  him,  he  turned 
himself  about,  and  declared  the  hearer  to  be  an  ignoramus. 

These  bad  manners,  however,  were  the  exception  among 
the  well-bred  Pleiades;  but  they  were  endured  as  being  a 
necessary  attribute  of  his  great  erudition. 

The  seventh,  and  last,  was  an  Honorable  Lady,  no  longer 
young.  She  was  of  noble  birth,  fat,  unattractive,  and  as 
ignorant  as  Professor  Bommeldoos  was  learned.  Every  one 
of  her  observations  was  crushed  by  him,  with  cold  disdain, 
under  some  obscure  quotation  or  other.  Whereupon  the 
Honorable  Lady,  smiling  insipidly,  became  silent,  but  with  a 
face  which  seemed  to  say  that  she  was  by  no  means  cbn- 
vinced. 

Johannes  waited  in  great  suspense  for  the  first  seance,  above 
all  because  of  the  possibility  that  Markus  would  perceive  his 
longings,  and,  as  Van  Lieverlee  surmised,  suddenly  appear. 

The  members  of  the  society  gathered  just  as  if  they  had  no 
other  thought  than  to  make  a  casual  evening  visit.  The 
Privy  Counselor,  who  bore  a  threefold  name,  and  whom 
therefore  I  shall  call  simply  the  Privy  Counselor,  chatted  with 
the  fat  Honorable  Lady  about  the  climate  on  the  Riviera,  along 
which  he  had  been  traveling  with  his  wife,  for  her  health's 
sake,  and  whence  he  had  brought  her  back  home  more  ill  than 
when  she  left.  The  General  chatted  on  about  the  early  shell- 
peas,  while  Van  Lieverlee  talked  softly  in  French  to  the 
countess,  to  the  silent  distraction  of  Johannes.  No  one  ap- 
peared to  care  to  know  the  object  of  their  meeting. 

But  this  dissimulation  was  rudely  shaken  by  Professor 
Bommeldoos,  who,  having  scarcely  entered,  burst  out  in  his 
frightful  voice: 

"Come,  followers  of  Allan  Kardec!  Where  is  the  keeper 
of  the  door  —  he  who  shall  unlock  for  us  that  portal  through 


THEQUEST  357 

which  we  may  step  from  the  kingdom  of  the  three  dimensions 
into  that  of  the  fourth  dimension  ?" 

Thereupon  he  looked  searchingly  into  the  faces  of  those 
present.  They  smiled  in  a  rather  embarrassed  way,  and 
glanced  at  the  General.  After  a  good,  thorough  clearing  of 
his  throat,  the  General  said: 

"If  you  refer  to  our  medium,  Professor,  there  is  none  yet; 
but  we  should  —  ah  .  .  .  can  —  ah  .  .  .  begin  to  form 
the  circle,  in  order  to  prepare  ourselves,  in  some  degree, 
for  .    .    ." 

During  oppressive  silence,  a  round,  marble-topped  table 
was  drawn  by  the  gentlemen  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 
The  assistance  of  the  servants  was  not  desired. 

"Look!  See  what  a  crack  was  made  in  it  the  other  time," 
whispered  the  Honorable  Lady,  "when  it  rose  completely  up 
into  the  air,  you  know.     We  could  not  possibly  hold  it  down." 

"Ought  not  the  light  to  be  put  out?"  asked  the  Professor, 
who  had  not  yet  attended  a  seance. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  General.  "A  little  lower  —  just  a 
little  lower." 

"Very  well!     H'm  —  h'm!"  muttered  Bommeldoos. 

"The  Professor  must  not  counteract  with  his  irony,"  said 
the  countess,  pleasantly. 

"Mevrouw,"  declaimed  the  Professor,  solemnly,  "in  the 
researches  of  a  philosopher  nothing  is  trifling,  nothing  is 
ridiculous.  He  stands  for  all  phenomena  like  an  unbroken 
mirror.  Darwin  had  the  contrabass  played  to  an  audience 
of  sprouting  garden-beans,  in  order  to  observe  the  effect  of 
music  on  vegetation.  And  if  you  have  read  my  book  about 
Plotinus  ..." 

"Pardon,  Professor,  I  have  not." 

"What!     Then  the  one  about  the  material  basis  of  ideas  ?" 

"Nor  that." 

"Then  you  certainly  must  read  my  book  upon  Magic.  Do 
not  forget  it,  or  I  will  not  come  the  next  time.  Plotinus 
says  ..." 


358  THEOUEST 

Mere  followed  a  quotation  in  Greek  that  I  will  spare  you, 
but  which  was  listened  to  with  respect.  Then  the  Honorable 
Lady  chimed  in  with: 

"Shall  we  not  sing  something?  It  puts  one  in  such  a  good 
frame  of  mind." 

They  all  agreed  with  her,  but  no  one  wanted  to  begin.  The 
General  seated  himself  mettlesomely  at  the  table,  and  spread 
out  his  hands  on  the  top  of  it. 

With  simulated  unconcern,  one  after  another  followed  him. 
At  last,  Johannes  also  was  invited  to  take  part. 

"Is  the  young  gentleman  a  novice  in  psychical  fields  ?"  asked 
the  Privy  Counselor,  condescendingly. 

"My  friend  Johannes  ought  to  have  strong  mediumistic 
powers.  I  hope  that  those  present  will  not  object  ..." 
said  the  countess. 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  the  General.  "In  this  re- 
search we  are  all  as  ignorant  as  children." 

"I  do  not  in  the  least  agree  with  you,  there.  General," 
blustered  Bommeldoos.  "Have  you  read  all  the  writings  of 
Phillipus  Aureolus  Paracelsus  Theophrastus  Bombastus  ab 
Hohenheim,  born  in  1493,  died  in  1541  ?" 

"I  have  not.  Professor,"  replied  the  warrior,  meekly. 

"Well,  I  have,  and  it  was  not  child's  work.  Magic  is  a 
subdivision  —  and  only  a  small  subdivision  —  of  philosophy. 
In  my  library  I  have  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  volumes,  all 
that  subdivision  —  all  of  them  on  magical  subjects,  from 
Apollonius  Tyannaeus  to  Swedenborg,  Hellenbach,  and  Du 
Prell.      Do  you  call  that  childish  ignorance?" 

"'Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  "  said  the  fat 
Honorable  Lady,  improving  the  opportunity  to  make  a  quo- 
tation, also. 

"I  am  not  going  to  drive  them  away,"  said  Bommeldoos, 
"if  only  they  do  not  imagine  they  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

Johannes  did  not  at  all  imagine  that,  and,  hands  upon  the 
marble  top  of  the  table,  he  waited  very  patiently  for  the  mani- 
festations. 


THEQUEST  359 

They  sat  a  considerable  time,  however,  without  anything 
unusual  having  happened.  Van  Lieverlee  said  to  the  coun- 
tess, softly  yet  quite  distinctly:  "Neither  are  those  magical 
powers  of  Johannes  very  unusual." 

Then  came  the  medium  —  a  demure  young  woman  of  the 
middle  class,  who  made  deep  courtesies  to  right  and  left,  and 
appeared  not  to  feel  quite  at  home  in  this  dignified  society. 

She  had  scarcely  seated  herself  at  the  table,  before  the  wife 
of  the  Privy  Counselor  cried  out  in  a  shrill  voice:  "I  feel  it 
already.     There  it  goes!" 

"Yes,  a  genuine  shock,"  declared  the  Honorable  Lady,  in 
an  excited  tone. 

"Be  calm,"  commanded  the  General. 

The  table  began  turning  and  tilting,  and  now  the  questions 
were  plied.  The  first  spirit  to  put  in  an  appearance  gave 
general  advice  about  reading  the  Bible,  and  about  faithful 
attendance  at  church.  This  advice  seemed  to  make  a  deep 
impression  on  the  circle.  Asked  his  name,  the  spirit  replied, 
"Moses."  This  gave  Professor  Bommeldoos  the  opportunity 
to  inquire  if  Moses  himself  had  written  the  Pentateuch. 
"Yes,"  was  the  reply.  But  when  the  Professor  queried  him  in 
Hebrew,  Moses  said  that  the  medium  needed  a  brief  rest; 
and  after  that  rest  he  left  it  to  some  one  else  to  make  reply. 
In  succession  followed  Homer  and  Cicero,  who  both  lamented 
that  they  had  not  known  the  true  faith;  and  after  them  Napo- 
leon, who  evinced  great  sorrow  for  the  amount  of  blood  he 
had  caused  to  be  shed.  One  could  see  that  this  gave  the  Gen- 
eral food  for  reflection. 

But,  save  that  all  these  people  urged,  in  the  main,  the  prac- 
tice of  purity  and  piety,  it  was  unanimously  demonstrated 
that  Johannes  and  the  countess  were  the  ones  from  whose 
co-operation  the  greatest  results  were  to  be  expected.  They 
would  have  to  study  up  these  matters,  and  apply  themselves 
to  automatic  writing. 

Then  Johannes  had  to  sit  beside  the  countess  and  hold  her 
hand,  and  thus,  together,  write  down  the  communications  of 


360  THEQUEST 

the  spirits.  This  was  a  hitter-sweet  experience  for  Johannes. 
Would  Markus  come  now  ^ 

But  Markus  did  not  come,  nor  any  news  of  poor  Helene, 
nor  of  her  father. 

Yet  a  spirit  disclosed  itseU'  who  treated  this  ideal  society  in 
a  very  impolite,  bearish  manner.  He  called  himself  Thomas, 
and  would  not  reply  when  Bommeldoos  asked  him  if  he  was 
Thomas  the  Apostle,  or  Thomas  Aquinas,  or  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  or  Thomas  Morus. 

"Do  you  know  us  ?"  asked  the  Privy  Counselor. 

"Yes,  you  are  heathen  and  malefactors." 

"Will  you  help  us  ?" 

"Confess,  pray,  and  do  penance,"  said  Thomas. 

"Will  you  tell  us  something  of  the  hereafter  .f'"  asked 
Countess  Dolores,  paling  somewhat. 

"Hell,  if  you  go  on  this  way,"  said  Thomas. 

"Then  what  must  I  do  ?"  asked  Dolores,  almost  trembling. 

"Be  converted,"  was  the  reply. 

"That  is  all  well  and  good,"  said  Bommeldoos,  "but  I 
know  at  least  twelve  religions,  and  twice  as  many  systems  of 
philosophy.     To  which  of  them  must  we  be  converted  ?" 

"Be  still,  you  heretic,"  was  the  parting  shot. 

Such  treatment  as  that  was  a  bit  too  much  for  the  learned 
Professor,  and  he  declared  he  had  had  enough  of  it,  and  could 
better  employ  his  time. 

The  society  was  of  one  mind  —  that  the  manifestations  this 
evening  had  not  been  propitious.  The  medium  ascribed  this 
to  her  own  indisposition.  She  had  suffered  the  entire  day 
with  a  headache,  and,  moreover,  there  were  —  she  was  cer- 
tain of  it  —  unfavorable  influences  present.  Saying  this,  she 
cast  a  reproachful  glance  at  the  Professor. 

"Oh,  it  was  much  more  lively  the  last  time,"  said  the  Hon- 
orable Lady.     "Was  it  not  truly  extraordinary.  General?" 

"Phenomena  cannot  be  forced,"  replied  the  General. 
"One  has  to  practise  patience.  We  would  better  stop,  for 
the  present." 


THEQUEST  361 

So  the  session  ended,  and  after  the  medium,  with  many 
obsequious  airs,  had  taken  her  leave,  they  partook  of  a  deli- 
cious supper. 

Johannes  retained  his  place  beside  the  hostess,  and  the 
remembrance  of  the  soft,  warm  hand  that  he  had  been  able 
to  hold  in  his  own  for  so  long  a  time  made  him  very  happy. 
He  was  not  disappointed.  Oh,  no,  he  was  elated  —  his 
excellent  friend  was  so  nice,  so  good,  and  so  kind  to 
him. 

A  new  Dutch  waitress  in  black  and  wearing  a  snow-white 
cap  with  long  strings  was  in  attendance.  Johannes  paid  no 
attention  to  her,  but  noticed  that  Van  Lieverlee  looked  at  her 
repeatedly. 

"Did  you  not  think  it  a  remarkable  evening.?"  asked  the 
countess,  after  the  guests  were  gone  and  they  were  alone 
together. 

"I  thought  it  splendid,"  replied  Johannes,  with  sincerity. 

"They  called  it  a  failure,"  said  the  countess,  "but  it  im- 
pressed me  quite  otherwise.     I  feel    greatly  moved." 

"I  too,"  said  Johannes. 

"Do  you?  That  makes  me  happy.  So  you,  also,  feel 
that  we  need  to  be  converted  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  that,"  said  Johannes,  "but  you  have  been 
so  good  to  me." 

Countess  Dolores  made  no  reply,  but  she  smiled  and  pressed 
his  hand  kindly.  Johannes  retained  her  hand,  while  he 
looked  into  her  eyes  with  passionate  devotion. 

The  waitress  had  been  standing  at  the  buffet,  placing  silver 
in  the  drawer.  At  this  moment  she  turned  round,  and  when 
Johannes  in  some  confusion  looked  at  her  to  see  if  she  had 
paid  any  attention  to  his  all-too-tender  airs  and  words,  he  sud- 
denly found  himself  gazing  into  a  pair  of  well-known,  light- 
grey  eyes. 

They  were  Marjon's  eyes,  and  they  wore  a  look  of  unutter- 
able anguish  and  sorrow. 

It    seemed    to    Johannes    as    if    his    heart    had    stopped 


362  THEQUEST 

beating.  He  sat  like  one  paralyzed,  until  his  friend's  hand 
slipped  from  his  clasp.  He  appeared  to  wish  to  rise  —  to  say 
something  .  .  . 

But  Marjon  put  her  finger  to  her  lips,  and  went  quietly  on 
with  her  work. 


IX 

Among  the  visitors  at  Villa  Dolores  was  a  Roman  prelate  —  a 
friend  of  Dolores'  deceased  husband.  He  was  heavy  of  build 
and  always  cheerful,  and  never  talked  on  religious  subjects. 
Sometimes  he  came  sociably,  as  a  table  guest,  and  besides  a 
fund  of  anecdotes  he  also  had  much  to  say  that  was  in- 
structive, to  which  Johannes  listened  eagerly. 

He  was  a  far  more  amiable  person  than  Dominie  Kraal- 
boom,  and  Johannes  liked  him  much  better.  He  understood 
all  about  flowers  and  animals,  about  poetry,  paintings,  and 
music;  and  of  special  interest  were  his  observations  on  beau- 
tiful Italy  and  holy  Rome,  where  he  had  traveled  and 
studied. 

Of  course  he  did  not  belong  to  the  Pleiades;  and  if  by 
rare  exception  the  circle  was  referred  to  in  his  presence,  he, 
being  both  cautious  and  courteous,  remained  silent. 

Yet,  after  that  first  meeting  of  which  I  have  told  you  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  Johannes  observed  that  he  came  oftener 
than  before,  and  also  at  unconventional  hours;  and  when 
Johannes  came  into  the  room  he  noticed  that  the  conversation 
between  the  countess  and  the  priest  was  suddenly  broken  off. 
He  saw,  also,  that  his  hostess  had  more  color  in  her  cheeks, 
as  if  she  had  been  speaking  of  weighty  matters. 

"Your  Mahatma  does  not  come,"  said  Dolores  once,  when, 
after  such  a  time  as  this,  the  priest  had  just  taken  his  leave. 
"He  has  turned  his  back  upon  us." 

"Yes,  Mevrouw,"  Johannes  was  forced  to  admit. 

"  I  think  myself  very  fortunate  in  having  found  a  wise  man 
who  can  help  me." 

"Do  you  mean  Father  Canisius  ?" 

"Yes.  Do  you  know  what  he  says?  That  we  are  on  a 
dangerous  road  in  the  pursuit  of  our  object.  It  is  all  the 
work  of  the  devil,  he  declares.     And  everything  he  says  agrees 

363 


364  THEQUEST 

with  what  we  heard  that  evening.  Would  you  not  Hke  to 
have  a  chat  with  him  ?" 

But  Johannes  hesitated.  He  had  not  yet  spoken  to  Marjon, 
and  was  hoping  to  hear  from  her  something  concerning  his 
brother. 

Marjon  evaded  him,  and  he  had  not  found  an  opportunity 
to  meet  her  alone.  Every  morning  he  went  to  his  room  with 
a  beating  heart,  hoping  to  find  her  there  busied  in  putting  it 
to  rights;  but  generally  it  was  already  in  order,  and  he  found 
merely  the  traces  of  her  care:  his  clothing  brushed  and  folded, 
his  Hnen  looked  over  and  nicely  placed  in  the  linen-press,  and 
fresh  flowers  in  the  little  vase  on  his  table.  He  observed 
everything,  and  was  deeply  touched  by  it. 

But  she  seemed  careful  to  be  always  in  company  with  the 
other  servants,  and  to  bear  herself  as  stiffly  and  coldly  as  the 
most  pert,  demure,  and  well-trained  chambermaid  possibly 
could.  Not  a  word  nor  a  look  nor  a  sign  betrayed  her 
acquaintance  with  Johannes;  and  he  often  heard  the  countess 
declare  to  her  visitors  that  she  had  never  before  found  so 
quickly  a  good  Dutch  servant. 

Neither  had  Van  Lieverlee  recognized  her,  but  was  simply 
struck  with  her  peculiar,  somewhat  alien  manner,  which  led 
him  to  ask  the  lady  of  the  house  if  she  knew  the  origin  of  the 
girl. 

"No,"  said  the  countess;  "she  was  recommended  to  me  by 
an  old  friend,  and  apparently  she  deserves  all  that  was  said 
of  her." 

But  Johannes'  yearning  for  Markus  grew  stronger  every 
day.  He  both  dreaded  and  longed  for  his  coming,  and  he 
wished  that  in  some  way  he  might  be  delivered  from  his  un- 
certainty. 

Therefore  he  was  ever  on  the  alert  to  seize  an  opportunity 
for  speaking  with  Marjon  alone.  One  evening  he  detained 
her  in  the  hall  under  the  pretense  of  inquiring  about  his 
shoes. 


THEQUEST  365 

"Where  did  you  leave  Keesje  ?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"You  know  very  well,"  replied  Marjon,  curtly,  and  in  the 
same  low  tone. 

Johannes  did  indeed  know,  and  for  that  very  reason  he 
had  asked  the  question. 

"Yes,  but  where  is  he  who  has  Keesje?" 

"I  do  not  know;  and  even  if  I  did,  I  would  not  tell  you. 
He  knows  his  time." 

At  that  moment  Countess  Dolores  passed  by. 

"Johannes,"  said  she,  "I  am  having  a  talk  with  Father 
Canisius.     If  you  wish  you  may  come,  too." 

Johannes  questioned  Marjon  with  a  look;  but  there  fell 
before  her  eyes  that  impenetrable  veil  which  always  completely 
hid  her  inmost  self  from  every  stranger. 

Father  Canisius  was  in  the  parlor,  seated  in  a  low  chair. 
His  black  soutane  fitted  tightly  over  his  robust  body,  and  his 
heavy  feet  in  their  buckled  shoes  were  planted  wide  apart. 
He  was  polishing  his  spectacles  with  a  handkerchief,  and  as 
Johannes  entered  the  room  he  put  them  quickly  in  place,  and 
turned  his  large  eyes,  full  of  interest,  toward  the  door. 

When  Johannes  came  forward  he  took  his  hand  in  a  kindly 
way  and  drew  him  nearer.  Johannes  looked  into  the  broad, 
smooth-shaven  face  with  its  flat  nose  and  sagacious  eyes. 

"Have  you  never  had  good  guidance,  my  boy.?  Without 
it  life  is  difficult  and  dangerous." 

"I  have  indeed  had  good  guidance,  Mijnheer,"  said  Johan- 
nes, "but  I  have  more  than  once  preferred  to  go  my  own  way; 
and  then  I  disregarded  my  guidance." 

"But  was  it  good  guidance?"  asked  the  priest. 

"I  had  a  good  father;  later,  I  found  a  dear,  good  friend. 
But  I  left  them  both." 

"Why  did  you  do  that  ?  Were  you  not  satisfied  with  what 
they  taught  you  ?     What  was  it  that  took  you  from  them  ?" 

Johannes  hesitated. 

"Were  they  too  strict  ?" 

Johannes  shook  his  head. 


366  THEQUEST 

"Then  what  was  lacking  that  you  found  elsewhere  but 
not  with  them  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Mijnheer,  what  to  call  it.  It  is  not  pleas- 
ure, for  I  am  willing  to  endure  much  suffering.  And  yet 
again  it  is  the  most  glorious  thing  I  know.  I  think  it  is  what 
is  meant  by  'the  beautiful.'" 

On  saying  this,  he  bethought  himself  that  it  was  not  merely 
"  the  beautiful "  for  which  he  had  left  his  father,  and  that 
the  emotion  which  had  led  him  away  from  Markus,  and 
which  he  had  felt  for  the  two  little  girls,  might  indeed  be 
called  love. 

"Perhaps  it  is  also  called  love,"  said  he. 

Father  Canisius  considered  a  moment,  and  throwing  a 
glance  at  the  countess,  he  said: 

"Then  did  you  not  find  the  love  of  that  good  father  and  the 
good  friend  enough  for  you  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,"  said  Johannes,  with  spirit.  "But  it  was 
from  them  I  had  learned  that  I  ought  to  follow  what  seemed 
to  me,  in  all  sincerity,  the  most  beautiful,  and  to  do  what  I 
truly  thought  best." 

The  priest  dropped  Johannes'  hand,  and  pressed  his  own 
fleshy  palms  together,  while  he  slowly  and  sorrowfully  shook 
his  great  head,  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  continued  to  look  at 
Countess  Dolores  with  a  very  serious  face. 

"Poor  boy!"  said  he  then.     "Poor,  poor  boy!" 

Then,  lifting  his  head  and  looking  Johannes  straight  in  the 
eyes,  he  said:  "No,  Johannes,  they  were  not  good  guides. 
I  do  not  know  them,  and  I  shall  not  judge  them,  but  I  assure 
you  positively  that  with  such  teaching,  such  guidance,  you 
are  bound  to  be  lost  unless  granted  extraordinary  grace." 

A  long  silence  ensued.  Johannes  was  touched,  and  even 
startled. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  finally  stammered  with  trembling 
lips. 

"Listen,  Johannes,"  said  Countess  Dolores.  "Father  Cani- 
sius is  very  wise  —  a  man  of  large  experience  in  life." 


THEQUEST  367 

"Do  you  believe  in  God,  Johannes  ?"  asked  the  priest. 

"I  know  that  I  have  a  Father  who  understands  me,"  said 
Johannes,  slowly. 

"Do  you  mean  a  heavenly  Father?  Very  well;  so  far,  so 
good.  But  you  must  have  observed  also  that  there  is  an  evil 
one  —  Satan  —  who  goes  about  deceiving  us." 

"Yes,"  said  Johannes,  promptly,  thinking  of  his  many 
disappointments.     "That  is  so.     I  have  observed  it." 

"Well,  then,  Satan  is  always  lying  in  wait  for  us,  like  a 
wolf  lurking  near  the  sheep.  One  who  trusts  only  in  his  own 
powers  and  his  own  opinion  is  like  a  sheep  that  strays  from 
the  fold.  The  wolf  surely  waits  his  opportunity,  and,  unless 
God  perform  a  miracle,  that  sheep  is  lost." 

Johannes  felt  the  fear  strike  to  his  heart,  and  he  could  not 
speak. 

"We  first  notice  the  approach  of  this  wolf  by  a  terrible  sen- 
sation. That  is  God's  warning  to  us.  That  feeling  is  doubt. 
Have  you  ever  known  what  it  was  to  doubt,  Johannes  ?" 

Johannes,  with  clenched  fists  and  compressed  lips,  nodded 
in  quick  and  utter  dismay.  Yes,  yes,  yes!  He  had  known 
what  it  was  to  doubt. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Father  Canisius,  calmly.  "It  is  a 
fearful  feeling,  is  it  not?"  Raising  his  voice,  he  proceeded: 
"It  is  like  the  sound  of  howling  wolves  in  the  distance  —  to 
the  wandering  sheep.  Let  it  not  be  in  vain  that  you  are 
warned,  Johannes." 

After  a  pause  he  continued: 

"Doubt  itself  is  a  sin.  He  who  doubts  is  on  an  inclined 
plane  that  slopes  toward  a  fall.  Have  you  ever  heard  of 
the  hideous  octopus,  Johannes  —  that  soft  sea-monster  with 
the  huge  eyes,  and  eight  long  arms  full  of  suckers  which,  one 
by  one,  he  winds  around  the  limbs  of  a  swimmer,  before  drag- 
ging him  down  to  the  deeps  ?  You  have  ?  Well,  Satan  is 
such  an  octopus.  Unnoticed,  he  reaches  out  his  long  arms, 
and  twines  them  about  your  limbs  —  holding  them  fast  with 
his  suckers  until  he  can  stab  his  sharp  beak  into  your  heart. 


368  THEOUEST 

Doubt  is  not  only  a  warning  but  positive  proof  that  Satan  has 
already  gripped  you.  It  is  the  beginning  of  his  power.  The 
end  is  everlasting  pain  and  damnation." 

Johannes  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the  priest,  who  was 
watching  the  effect  of  his  words. 

In  spite  of  his  distress  there  was  suddenly  aroused  in  Jo- 
hannes a  feeling  of  resistance.  He  felt  that  an  effort  was 
being  made  to  frighten  him;  and  even  if  he  was  but  a  stripling 
he  would  not  allow  that. 

"My  Father  does  not  condemn  those  who  err  in  good  faith," 
said  he. 

Father  Canisius  observed  that  by  bearing  on  too  hard  he  had 
awakened  a  rebellious  spirit.  He  therefore  became  more  cau- 
tious, and  resumed  gently: 

"Certainly,  Johannes.  God  is  infinitely  good  and  merciful. 
But  have  you  not  remarked  that  there  is  a  justice  from  which 
you  cannot  escape  ?  And  do  you  believe  that  one  who  has 
been  led  astray  can  plead,  'lam  not  guilty,  for  I  was 
deceived'.''  No,  Johannes,  you  take  this  matter  too  lightly. 
Punishment  attends  sin.  That  is  God's  inexorable  law.  And 
only  if  He  had  failed  to  warn  us  —  only  if  He  had  not  accurately 
revealed  to  us  His  will,  could  you  call  that  cruei  and  unjust. 
But  we  are  warned  —  are  instructed  —  and  may  follow  good 
guidance.  If  then  we  continue  to  stray,  it  is  our  own  fault 
and  we  must  not  complain." 

"You  mean  the  Bible,  do  you  not,  Mijnheer  ?" 

"The  Bible  and  the  Church,"  said  the  Father,  not  pleased 
at  the  tone  of  this  question.  "  I  very  well  comprehend,  my  boy, 
that  you,  with  your  poetic  temperament  and  your  craving  for 
the  beautiful,  have  not  found  peace  in  the  cold,  barren,  and 
barbarous  creed  of  Protestantism.  But  the  Church  gives 
you  everything  —  beauty,  warmth,  love,  and  exalted  poetry. 
In  the  Church  alone  can  you  find  peace  and  perfect  security. 
You  know,  however,  do  you  not,  that  the  flock  has  need  of  a 
Shepherd  }     And  you  know  also  who  that  Shepherd  is  ?" 

"Do  you  mean  the  Pope  ?" 


THEQUEST  369 

"I  mean  Christ,  Johannes  —  our  Redeemer,  of  whom  the 
Pope  is  merely  a  human  representative.  Do  you  know  this 
Shepherd  ?     Do  you  not  know  Jesus  Christ?" 

"No,  Mijnheer,"  rephed  Johannes,  in  all  simplicity,  "I  do 
not  know  him  at  all." 

"I  thought  as  much;  and  that  is  why  I  said  to  you,  'Poor 
boy.'  But  if  you  wish  to  learn  to  know  him,  I  will  gladly 
help  you.     Do  you  wish  me  to  ?" 

"Why  not,  Mijnheer?"  said  Johannes. 

"Very  well.  Begin,  then,  by  accompanying  the  countess  to 
the  church  she  has  promised  me  to  attend  —  Have  you, 
indeed,  arranged  to  go?" 

"Yes,  Father,"  replied  the  countess.  "Oh,  I  am  so  happy 
that  you  take  such  an  interest  in  us!  Johannes  will  surely 
always  be  grateful  to  you." 

Father  Canisius  pressed  very  cordially  the  hands  of  both 
of  his  new  disciples,  and,  with  an  expression  of  calm  satisfac- 
tion on  his  face,  he  took  his  leave. 

The  children  came  in,  and  nothing  further  was  said  that 
day  between  Johannes  and  his  friend  concerning  the  matter; 
but  the  countess  was  much  more  animated  than  usual,  and 
wonderfully  kind  toward  Johannes.  She  even  kissed  him 
again  when  they  said  good-night,  as  once  before  she  had  done 
—  when  with  her  children. 

Johannes  could  not  sleep.  He  was  full  of  anxiety,  and  in  a 
state  of  high  nervous  tension.  When  the  house  grew  still,  and 
the  lonely,  mysterious  night  had  come,  came  also  fear  and 
doubt  and  faint-heartedness.  He  doubted  that  he  doubted, 
and  feared  the  doubt  of  the  doubt.  He  heard  the  howling  of 
the  wolf  that  lay  in  wait  for  the  wandering  sheep;  he  felt  the 
slippery,  slimy,  crawling  grasp  of  those  terrible  arms,  that 
unnoticed,  had  fastened  their  suckers  everywhere  to  his  limbs; 
he  saw  the  great  yellow  eyes  of  the  octopus,  with  the  narrow, 
slit-shaped  pupil;  and  he  felt  the  mouth  searching  and  feel- 
ing about  his  body  for  his  heart,  that  it  might  stab  it  with  the 


37° 


THE    QUEST 


sharp,  parrot-like  beak.  With  chattering  teeth  he  lay  wide 
awake  between  the  sheets  —  shivering  and  shaking,  while  the 
perspiration  poured  from  him. 

Then  he  heard  a  faint,  creaking  sound  on  the  stairs,  fol- 
lowed by  a  light  footfall  at  the  doorway.  His  door  was 
opened,  and  a  slim,  dark  form  came  cautiously  up  to  the  bed. 

He  felt  a  soft,  warm  hand  on  his  clammy  forehead,  and 
heard  Marjon's  voice  whispering: 

"You  must  be  faithful,  Jo,  and  not  let  them  make  you 
afraid.     The  Father  likes  brave  and  loyal  children." 

"Yes,  Marjon,"  said  Johannes;  and  the  shivering  ceased, 
while  a  gentle  warmth  stole  over  and  through  his  entire  body. 
He  dropped  asleep  so  soon  that  he  did  not  notice  when  she 
left  the  room. 


X 

"Jump  out!"  cried  Wistik,  excitedly,  swinging  his  little  red 
cap.     "Come  on  —  jump!" 

Johannes  saw  no  way  of  doing  so.  The  window  was 
high  and  quite  too  small.  Perhaps  by  climbing  still  higher 
he  might  find  a  way  out.  A  flight  of  stairs,  and  another  gar- 
ret. Still  another  narrow  passage,  and  another  staii"way. 
Then  he  caught  another  glimpse  of  Wistik,  astride  a  large 
eagle. 

"Come  on,  Johannes!"  cried  he.  "You  must  dare  to  — 
then  nothing  can  happen." 

Johannes  was  ready  to  venture,  but  he  could  not  do  it.  The 
little  window  was  again  out  of  reach.  Back  again.  Empty 
garrets,  steep  stairs  —  stairs  without  end.  And  there  was  the 
octopus!  He  knew  it.  Again  and  again  he  saw  one  of  the 
long  arms  with  its  hundreds  of  suckers.  Sometimes  one  of 
them  lay  stretched  along  the  garret  floor,  so  that  he  had  to 
step  over  it.  Sometimes  one  meandered  over  the  stairs  that 
Johannes  was  obliged  to  mount.  The  whole  house  was  full 
of  them. 

And  out-of-doors  the  sun  was  shining,  and  the  blue  air  was 
clear  and  bright.  Wistik  was  circling  around  the  house,  seated 
on  the  great  eagle  —  the  very  same  eagle  they  had  come  across 
before,  in  Phrygia. 

Out-of-doors  also  rang  the  voice  of  Marjon.  Hark!  She 
was  singing.  She,  too,  was  in  the  open  air.  She  seemed  to 
have  made  a  little  song,  herself — words  and  melody  —  for 
Johannes  had  never  before  heard  either  of  them. 

"Nightly  there  come  to  me, 

White  as  the  snow. 

Wings  that  I  know  to  be 

Strange,  here  below. 

371 


372  THE    GUEST 

"Up  into  ether  blue, 
Pure  and  so  high, 
Mounting  on  pinions  true, 
Singing,  I  fly. 

"Sea-gull  like  then  I  soar  — 
Not  light  more  swift  — 
So  near  to  Heaven's  door 
To  rock  and  drift!" 

Alas!  Johannes  could  not  yet  do  that.  He  had  no  wings. 
He  did,  indeed,  see  rays  of  light  at  times,  and  here  and  there  a 
bit  of  blue  sky.  But  he  could  not  get  to  it  —  he  could  not 
get  out!  And  on  he  went  again  —  upstairs,  downstairs, 
through  doorways,  halls,  and  great  garrets.  And  the  ter- 
rible arms  lay  everywhere. 
Again  Marjon  sang: 

"Marvelous,  matchless  blue 
I  cleave  in  flight. 
The  spheres  are  not  so  fleet 
As  my  winged  feet. 

"World  after  world  speed  by 
Under  my  hand. 
New  ones  I  ever  espy, 
Countless  as  sand. 

"Blue  of  the  skies! 
Blue  of  the  deep! 
Now  make  me  wise  — 
No  more  to  weep." 

Johannes  also  heard  the  blue  calling  him;  but  what  the 
magic  word  was  he  could  not  guess.  He  was  on  his  knees 
now,  before  a  small,  garret  window  through  which  he  could 
barely  thrust  his  arm.  Behind  him  he  could  hear  a  shuffling 
and  sliding.     It  was  the  long  arm  again! 


THE    QUEST  ^-j^ 

"It's  a  shame!"  said  Wistik  again,  his  httle  face  red  with 
anger,  "the  way  they  have  mahgned  me!  I  ought  to  be  hail- 
fellow  with  the  Evil  One  for  not  letting  you  be.  What  a 
rascal  he  is!      Do  you  want  to  be  rid  of  me,  Johannes  ?  " 

"No,  Wistik.  I  believe  that  you  are  good  even  if  you 
have  often  disappointed  me  and  made  me  very  restless. 
You  have  shown  me  so  much  that  is  beautiful.  But  why  do 
you  not  help  me  now  ?  If  you  call  me  you  ought  to  help 
me. 

"No,"  said  Wistik;  "you  must  help  yourself.  You  must 
act,  you  understand  ?  Act!  You  know  that  It  is  behind  you, 
do  you  not .'' " 

"Yes,  yes!"  shrieked  Johannes. 

"But,  boy,  do  not  shriek  at  me!  Shriek  at  It.  It  is  much 
more  afraid  of  you  than  you  are  of  It.     Try!" 

That  was  an  idea.  Johannes  set  his  teeth,  clenched  his 
fists,  turned  round  and  shouted: 

"Out,  I  say!  Out  with  you — you  ugly,  miserable 
wretch  !  " 

I  even  believe  he  used  a  swear-word.  But  one  ought  to 
forgive  him,  because  it  was  from  sudden  excitement.  When 
he  saw  that  the  long  arms  shriveled  and  drew  away,  and  that 
it  grew  still  in  the  house  —  when  he  felt  his  distress  abating 
and  saw  the  sunlight  burst  out,  revealing  a  spacious  deep- 
blue  sky  —  then  his  anger  calmed  down,  and  he  felt  rather 
ashamed  of  having  been  so  vehement. 

"That  is  good!"  said  Wistik.     "But  do  not  be  unmannerly 

—  do  not  scold.     That  is  hateful.     But  nevertheless,  act,  and 
learn  compassion." 

Johannes  was  now  no  longer  afraid;  he  shouted  for  joy. 
Yes,  he  was  bathed  in  tears  of  thankfulness  and  relief.  Oh, 
the  glorious  blue  sky! 

"Now  you  know  it,  once  for  all,"  said  Wistik. 

Marjon's  voice  again  in  song.     But  this  time  very  different 

—  the  air  of  one  of  her  old  songs  merely  hummed:  a  cus- 


374  THEQUEST 

tomary  callino;  sound  —  a  soft  suppressed  little  tune.  And 
thereupon  followed  a  "tap,  tap,  tap,"  at  his  chamber  door, 
to  tell  him  that  it  was  half-past  eight  and  time  to  get  up. 

Fresh  energy,  a  feeling  of  high  spirits  and  courage,  filled 
Johannes  that  day.  At  last  he  was  going  to  act  —  to  do  some- 
thins  to  end  his  difficulties. 

First,  he  sought  an  opportunity  to  speak  with  Van  Liever- 
lee.  He  went  to  brave  him  in  his  own  rooms  where  he  had 
never  yet  been.  There  he  saw  a  confused  medley  of  dissim- 
ilar things:  some  rare  old  pieces  of  furniture,  and  oriental 
rugs;  a  large  collection  of  pipes  and  weapons;  a  few  modern 
books;  on  the  wall  some  picture-studies  of  which  Johannes 
could  not  glean  the  meaning;  some  French  posters  picturing 
frivolous  girls.  With  the  same  glance  he  saw  mediaeval 
prints  of  saints  in  ecstasy,  and  plaster  casts  of  wanton  women, 
and  the  heads  of  emaciated  monks.  There  were  images  of 
Christ  in  hideous  nakedness,  and  lithographs  and  casts  so 
blood-curdling,  crazy,  and  bizarre  that  they  made  Johannes 
think  of  his  most  frightful  dreams. 

"What  are  you  here  for  ?"  asked  Van  Lieverlee  tot  Endegeest 
who,  with  an  empty  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  a  face  full  of  dis- 
pleasure, lay  stretched  out  languidly  on  the  floor. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  something,"  said  Johannes,  not  exactly 
knowing  how  to  becin. 

"Not  in  the  mood  for  it,"  drawled  Van  Lieverlee. 

The  day  before,  Johannes  would  have  wilted.  Not  so  to- 
day. He  seated  himself,  and  thought  of  what  Wistik  had 
said  — "Act!" 

"I  will  not  wait  any  longer,"  he  began  again.  "I  have 
waited  too  long  already." 

"The  big  priest  has  had  you  in  hand,  has  he  not?"  said 
Van  Lieverlee,  with  a  little  more  interest. 

"Yes,"  replied  Johannes;  "did  you  know  it  I  What  do  you 
think  of  him  ?" 

Van  Lieverlee  gaped,  nodded,  and  said:  "A  knowing  one! 


THEQUEST  375 

Just  let  him  alone.  Biceps!  you  know  —  biceps!  All  phy- 
sique and  intellectuality.  Representative  of  his  entire  organ- 
ization. Can't  help  respecting  it,  Johannes.  How  those 
fellows  can  thunder  at  the  masses!  One  can't  help  taking  off 
his  hat  to  them.  The  whole  lot  of  the  Reformed  aren't  in  it 
with  them!  Theirs  is  only  half-work;  they  are  irresolute  in 
everything  they  give  or  take;  krita-krita,  as  we  say  in  San- 
scrit. Whether  you  do  good  or  do  ill,  aways  do  it  wholly,  not 
by  halves;  otherwise  you  yourself  become  the  dupe.  If  you 
would  keep  the  people  down,  hold  them  down  completely. 
To  establish  a  church,  and  at  the  same  time  talk  of  liberty  of 
conscience,  as  do  the  Protestants  —  that  is  stuff  and  nonsense 
—  nothing  comes  of  it.  You  may  see  that  from  the  results. 
Every  dozen  Protestants  have  their  own  church  with  its  own 
dogmas,  with  its  own  little  faith  which  alone  can  save,  and 
with  its  little  coterie  of  the  elect!  No,  compared  with  them 
the  Roman  Church  is  at  least  a  respectable  piece  of  work  — 
a  formidable  concern." 

"Do  you  believe  in  it?"  asked  Johannes. 

Van  Liverlee  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  shall  have  to  think  it  over  a  while  longer.  If  I  think  it 
agreeable  to  believe  in  it,  then  I  shall  do  so.  But  it  will  be 
in  the  genuine  old  Church,  with  Adam  and  Eve,  and  the  sun 
which  circles  around  the  earth;  not  in  that  modernized,  up- 
to-date  Church,  altered  according  to  the  advancement  of  sci- 
ence —  with  electric  light  and  the  doctrine  of  heredity.  How 
disgusting!  No,  I  must  have  the  church  of  Dante,  with  a  real 
hell  full  of  fire  and  brimstone,  right  here  under  our  earth,  and 
Galileo  inside  of  it." 

"But  I  did  not  come  to  inquire  about  that,"  said  Johannes, 
sticking  to  his  point.  "I  am  not  content,  and  you  ought  to 
help  me.  What  I  have  heard  in  the  Pleiades,  and  from  Father 
Canisius  does  not  satisfy  me.  I  am  sure,  also,  that  it  is  not  in 
this  way  I  shall  find  my  friend  again;  and  now  I  am  deter- 
mined to  find  him." 

"Where,  then,  do  you  wish  to  look  for  him  ?" 


376  THE    GUEST 

"I  believe,"  said  Johannes,  "that  if  he  is  to  be  found  any- 
where, it  is  among  the  poor  —  the  laborers." 

"Ah!  Would  you  take  part  in  the  labor  agitation  ?  Well, 
you  can  do  so,  but  I  do  not  agree  to  go  with  you.  You  know 
what  I  think  about  that.  Socialism  has  got  to  come,  but  I  am 
not  going  to  concern  myself  with  it.  It  smells  too  much  of  the 
proletariat.  I  am  very  glad  of  the  birth  of  a  new  society,  but 
a  birth  is  always  an  unsavory  incident.  I  leave  that  to  the 
midwife.  I'll  wait  until  the  infant  is  thoroughly  washed  and 
tidy  before  making  its  acquaintance." 

"  But  I  wish  to  look  for  my  friend." 

Van  Lieverlee  stood  up  and  stretched  himself. 

"You  bore  me,"  said  he,  "with  that  eternal  chatter  about 
your  friend." 

"Act!"  thought  Johannes,  and  he  went  on: 

"You  promised  to  show  me  the  way  to  what  I  am  seeking, 
and  to  give  an  explanation  of  my  experiences.  But  I  know 
no  more  than  I  knew  before." 

"Your  own  fault,  my  friend.  Result  of  pride  and  self- 
seeking.  Why  have  you  had  so  little  to  do  with  me  ?  You 
kept  yourself  with  those  two  little  girls.  Did  they  enlighten 
you  r 

"Quite  as  much  as  you  did,"  replied  Johannes. 

Van  Lieverlee  looked  up  in  surprise.  That  was  insubordi- 
nation —  open  resistance.  However,  he  thought  it  better  to 
take  no  notice,  so  he  said: 

"  But  since  you  will  join  the  labor  movement,  then  you  must 
find  out  for  yourself.  I  won't  hold  you  back.  Go,  then, 
and  look  for  your  Mahatma!" 

"  But  how  am  I  to  begin  ?  You  have  so  many  friends  — 
do  you  know  some  one  who  can  help  me  ?" 

Van  Lieverlee  thought  about  it  while  looking  steadily  at 
Johannes.     Then  he  said,  deliberately: 

"Very  well.  I  know  of  one  who  is  in  the  middle  of  it. 
Would  you  like  to  go  to  him  ?" 


THEQUEST  377 

"Yes,  at  once,  if  you  please." 

"Good,"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  Together  they  set  out.  The 
friend  referred  to  was  the  editor  of  a  journal  —  a  Doctor  of 
Laws.     Felbeck  was  his  name. 

His  office  was  far  from  luxurious  in  appearance.  The 
steps  were  worn,  and  the  door-mat  was  trodden  to  shreds.  It 
was  a  dreary  and  sombre  place.  Large  posters  and  carica- 
tures were  pasted  on  the  walls,  and  on  the  table  lay  many 
pamphlets  and  papers.  Also  there  were  writing-desks,  letter- 
boxes, and  rush-bottomed  chairs.  Two  clerks  sat  there  writ- 
ing, and  a  few  men,  with  hats  on  and  cigars  in  their  mouths, 
were  talking.  There  was  a  continual  running  to  and  fro  of 
people  —  printers'  devils,  and  men  in  slouch  hats. 

Dr.  Felbeck  himself  had  a  pale,  thin  face,  square  jaws, 
bristling  hair,  and  a  black  goatee  and  moustache.  His  eyes 
were  deep-set,  and  they  looked  at  Johannes  keenly,  in  a 
manner  not  fitted  to  put  him  into  a  restful  and  confiding 
state  of  mind. 

"This  young  person,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  "wishes,  as  you 
express  it,  to  turn  his  back  upon  his  bourgeois  status,  and  to 
swell  the  ranks  of  the  struggling  proletariat.  Is  that  what 
you  call   it .?  " 

"Well!"  said  Dr.  Felbeck.  "He  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
it,  and  you  might  follow  his  example.  Van  Lieverlee." 

"Who  knows  what  I  may  yet  do,"  said  Van  Lieverlee, 
"when  the  proletariat  shall  have  learned  to  wash  itself?" 

"What!"  said  Felbeck.  "Would  you,  a  poet,  have  washed 
and  combed  proletarians,  with  collars  and  silk  hats  ?  No, 
my  friend;  with  their  vile  and  callous  fists  they  will  smash 
your  refined  and  coddled  civilization,  like  an  etagere  of  bric- 
a-brac  in  a  parlor!"  Dr.  Felbeck  vented  his  feelings  in  a 
blow  at  the  imaginary  etagere.  The  attention  of  a  clerk  on 
the  other  side  of  the  room  was  arrested,  and  he  stopped  his 
work.     Van  Lieverlee,  too,  looked  somewhat  interested. 

"  A  revolution  appeals  to  me,"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  "  With 
barricades,  and  fellows  on  them  with  red  flags,  straggling  hair. 


378  THEOUEST 

and  bloodshot  eyes.  That  is  n't  bad.  But  you  people  of 
the  Society  of  the  Future  !  —  Heaven  preserve  us  from  that 
tedious  and  kill-joy  crowd  !  I  would  ten  times  over  prefer  an 
obese,  over-rich  banker  with  his  jeweled  rings,  who,  wax- 
ing fat  through  the  misfortunes  of  simpletons,  builds  a  villa  in 
Corfu,  to  your  future  citizen." 

"  You  do  not  at  all  understand  it  yet,"  said  Felbeck,  with  a 
slighting  laugh.  "  You  are  bound  to  have  such  notions  be- 
cause you  belong  to  the  bourgeois  class  of  which  you  are  an 
efflorescence.  You  are  obliged  to  talk  like  a  bourgeois,  and 
versify  like  one.  You  cannot  do  otherwise.  You  cannot 
possibly  comprehend  the  proletarian  civilization  of  the  future. 
It  is  to  be  evolved  from  the  proletarian  class  to  which  we  be- 
long, and  with  which  your  young  friend  wishes  to  connect 
himself,  as  I  perceive  with  pleasure." 

The  clerk  across  the  room  came  nearer,  to  listen  to  the 
speech  of  his  chief.  He  was  an  under-sized  young  man  whose 
pomaded  black  hair  was  parted  in  the  middle.  He  had  a 
crooked  nose  straddled  by  eye-glasses,  and  thick  lips  from 
between  which  dangled  a  cigar  —  even  while  he  spoke.  He 
wore  a  well-fitting  suit,  and  pointed  shoes  with  gaiters. 

"  May  I  introduce  myself,"  said  he.  "  I  am  Kaas  —  fellow- 
partner  Isadore  Kaas." 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  And  Johan- 
nes also  received  a  handshake. 

"Have  you  come  to  register  yourself?"  the  partner  asked. 

"In  what  ?"  asked  Johannes,  who  had  not  yet  exactly  gotten 
the  idea  of  things.     "In  the  proletarian  class?" 

"As  a  member  of  the  party,"  said  Kaas. 

"What  does  that  imply?"  asked  Johannes,  hesitating. 

"It  implies,"  said  Felbeck,  "  that  you  renounce  the  privi- 
leges of  the  class  to  which  you  are  native,  and  that  you  range 
yourself,  under  the  red  flag,  in  the  ranks  of  the  International 
Workingmen's  Party  —  with  the  struggling  proletariat  —  the 
party  of  the  future." 

"Then  what  have  I  to  do?" 


THEQUEST  379 

"Sign  your  name,  make  a  small  contribution,  attend  the 
meetings,  read  our  paper,  spread  our  doctrines,  and  vote  for 
our  candidates  in  the  elections." 

"Nothing  else?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Well,  is  not  that  enough?" 

"Did  you  not  speak  of  privileges  I  must  renounce?" 

"There,  there!"  said  partner  Kaas,  "do  not  make  too  much 
of  that,  to  begin  with.  Don't  be  frightened.  For  the  pres- 
ent, nothing    further  is  required  of  you." 

"Oh,  I  was  not  afraid,"  said  Johannes,  a  trifle  vexed  that 
he  should  have  been  misunderstood.  "I  was  even  hoping 
that  I  might  be  able  to  do  more." 

"So  much  the  better!  So  much  the  better!"  said  Kaas, 
stepping  hurriedly  over  to  his  desk  again,  and  eagerly  hunt- 
ing for  a  pen.     "That  settles  it.     Your  name,  if  you  please." 

But  Johannes  was  not,  for  the  time  being,  in  a  very  com- 
pliant mood.  Since  he  had  dared  the  octopus  he  had  found 
that  he  had  more  than  one  string  to  his  bow. 

"No,  I  came  for  something  else.  I  have  a  dear  friend  who 
lives  and  works  for  the  poor  and  oppressed.  I  am  looking 
for  him.  I  saw  him  last,  at  the  great  strike  of  the  miners,  in 
Germany.  Since  that  time  I  have  heard  nothing  from  him, 
but  I  know,  surely,  that  he  is  with  the  working  people.  Mijn- 
heer  van  Lieverlee  has  told  me  that  you  were  in  the  midst  of 
the  labor  movement.     Could  you  not  help  me?" 

"What's  his  name?"  asked  Dr.  Felbeck. 

"They  know  him  as  Markus,"  replied  Johannes,  although 
it  cost  him  an  effort  to  speak  the  dear  name  in  that  place. 

"Markus?"  repeated  the  gentleman,  considering.  "Mar- 
kus only  ?" 

"Markus  Vis,"  said  Johannes,  with  yet  more  reluctance. 

"Oh!     He!"  exclaimed  partner  Kaas. 

"Markus  Vis?"  said  Felbeck,  turning  round  to  the  others 
in  the  office.     "Is  that  —  ?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  interrupted  Kaas,  "  the  very  same  who  caused 
that  row  at  the  Exchange." 


380  THEQUEST 

"Gee!  That  confounded  anarchist!"  cried  one  of  the  soft- 
hatted  smokers. 

"Is  he  a  friend  of  yours?"  asked  Dr.  Felbeck,  with  a  dis- 
dainful sniff. 

"Yes,  Mijnheer,  my  best  friend,"  said  Johannes,  firmly. 

"Well,  young  man,  you  consort  with  odd  and  dangerous 
friends. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is?"  asked  Johannes,  quite  un- 
disturbed. 

"Not  I,"  declared  Felbeck,  scornfully.  "Do  any  of  you 
happen  to  know  ?" 

"  I  rather  think  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bedlam," 
said  another  man, 

"Trommel,"  called  Felbeck  to  a  clerk  who  had  kept  on 
writing,  "where  does  Vis  hang  out  at  present  ?" 

"Markus  Vis?"  said  partner  Trommel.  "Well,  for  the 
nonce,  at  the  office  of  an  iron  foundry.     "He  has  a  job  there." 

"That's  a  neat  berth  for  him,"  remarked  one  of  the  smokers. 
"You'll  see  what  a  boot-licker  he'll  be  after  he  puts  on  a 
collar." 

"What  foundry  is  that?"  asked  Van  Lieverlee. 

"In  the  'de  Ruiter,'  of  your  uncle  Mijnheer  van  Trigt," 
replied  partner  Trommel. 

"How  long  has  he  been  there  ?"  asked  Van  Lieverlee. 

"For  two  or  three  weeks  past." 

"Is  he  a  tall  dark  fellow  with  a  beard,  and  curling  hair, 
and  a  jumper  ?" 

"That  is  it  —  exactly!"  said  various  voices. 

Van  Lieverlee  swung  round,  strode  up  to  the  window,  threw 
back  his  head,  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  and  snorted  into 
it.  The  bystanders  could  hardly  tell  whether  he  w'as  sneez- 
ing, or  laughing,  or  indisposed. 

"Excuse  me!"  he  cried  out.  "Something  comical  occurred 
to  me." 

Then  he  snorted  again,  and  one  could  plainly  see  that  he 
was  laughing. 


THEQUEST  381 

"A  Mahatma!"  they  heard  him  muimur,  in  the  middle  of 
his  laughing.     "Oh!     Oh!  but  that  is  good!     A  Mahatma!" 

Those  present  looked  rather  perplexed  at  this  outburst,  as 
if  waiting  for  further  explanation. 

"If  I  only  had  had  that  description  earlier,  Johannes,"  said 
Van  Lieverlee,  recovering  from  his  fit  of  laughter,  "we  need 
not  have  annoyed  these  gentlemen.  Your  friend  is  in  my 
uncle's  office.     I  have  seen  him  several  times." 

"Then  will  you  go  there  with  me  .?"  asked  Johannes.  His 
voice  was  still  firm,  but  I  assure  you  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
However,  he  controlled  himself  in  the  presence  of  those  men 
and  partners. 

"Of  course,  of  course!  Sometime!"  said  Van  Lieverlee, 
in  high  glee;  and  he  actually  began  laughing  again.  He 
made  a  pretense  of  trying  to  control  this  outburst,  but  such 
was  his  manner  that  Johannes  would  have  liked  to  strike  him 
straight  in  the  face. 

He  did  not  do  it,  however,  but  went  down  the  steps  with 
Van  Lieverlee  without  having  enrolled  in  the  proletarian  class. 

"Well,  good-by!"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  when  they  were  in 
the  street,  giving  Johannes'  hand  an  immoderate  shake.  "I 
must  go  to  the  Soos.*  Sometime  we  will  go  to  the  foundry. 
I'll  make  some  inquiries,  first.  We'll  go  sometime  —  of 
course  —  of  course ! " 

With  his  mouth  still  twisted  in  irony,  and  humming  a  song, 
he  passed  on,  in  affected  indifference.  That  evening  —  alone 
—  Johannes  hunted  for  the  foundry.  But  the  office  was  closed 
and  dark,  and  there  was  no  one  about  to  give  him  infor- 
mation. 

He  found  in  his  own  little  room  a  small  bit  of  cheer  —  a 
vase  of  forget-me-nots,  from  Marjon. 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


XI 

"WiSTiK,  dear,"  said  Johannes,  "let  me  hold  your  hand. 
You  are  such  a  good  and  true  friend.  "I  am  not  sorry  any 
more  that  I  slipped  from  under  Windekind's  mantle  to  listen 
to  you." 

"One  must  not  admire  oneself —  I  have  always  said  that," 
replied  Wistik,  "but  it  is  very  true  that  I  am  good,  and  do  not 
deserve  all  those  mean  things  said  of  me.  And  what  is  the  truth 
may  be  acknowledged,  even  if  it  be  called  boasting.  Neither 
bragging  nor  decrying,  but  the  truth  —  that  is  my  idea." 

Thereupon  the  little  fellow  nodded  proudly,  and  set  his  cap 
on  more  firmly. 

They  were  sitting  on  a  rocky  coast.  To  the  left  the  sun 
was  shining  brightly  upon  a  steep  wall  of  rose-red  rocks.  To 
the  right  was  a  gentle  upward  slope,  where  trees  were  grow- 
ing, with  delicate  silver-grey  foliage.  In  front  of  them  lay 
the  wide  waters  of  the  sea  —  almost  motionless,  but  sHghtly 
stirring  with  the  fresh  wind,  and  sparkling  in  the  light.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  seen  save  red  rocks,  blue  sky,  and  water. 
The  blue,  crystal-clear  water  lapped  and  gurgled  and  splashed 
about  the  hollows  and  chinks  in  the  stone  at  their  feet,  and 
then  disappeared  in  the  clefts  and  caves,  where  the  sea-weed 
and  the  coral  were.     How  bricrht  it  was!     How  fresh  and 


spacious 


"I  never  see  Windekind,  now,"  said  Johannes.  "It  is 
truly  sad,  for  Father  Pan's  kingdom  was  most  beautiful. 
But  I  am  resigned,  and  I  believe  you  when  you  say  that  still 
more  beautiful  things  are  to  be  found.  Did  I  not  once  think 
the  dunes  the  most  beautiful  of  all,  and  fear  I  never  should 
feel  at  home  an^-where  else  ?  But  now  this  strange  land  seems 
to  me  even  greater,  and  I  feel  at  home  here  also.  Where  are 
we,  dear  Wistik  ?" 

382 


THEQUEST  383 

"What  difFerence  does  it  make?"  said  Wistik,  who  never 
willingly  admitted  he  did  not  know  a  thing. 

"It  does  not  matter,"  replied  Johannes.  "The  main  thing 
is  that  I  know  that  I  am  I  —  Johannes,  and  that  I  see  things 
good  and  clear;  that  yesterday  I  was  at  that  office,  and  that 
I  sought  for  Markus  at  the  foundry.  And  I  know  too  that 
I  might  now  be  seen  lying  asleep.  But  yet  I  am  not  dream- 
ing, for  I  am  wide  awake  —  quite  wide  awake,  and  I  remem- 
ber everything." 

"  Exactly,"  agreed  Wistik.  "  Do  you  recollect  what  Markus 
said  about  remembering.''" 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  went  on  in  a  tone  that 
grew  softer  and  more  solemn. 

"Remembrance,  Johannes,  is  truly  a  holy  thing;  for  it 
makes  the  past — present.  Now  the  future  to  it  .  .  .  and 
then  we  should  be   .   .  ." 

"Where,  Wistik.?" 

"In  that  still  autumn  day,  where  the  gold  on  the  tree-tops 
never  fades,  and  a  branch  never  breaks.  Do  you  remember  ? " 
asked  Wistik,  hardly  above  a  whisper. 

Johannes  nodded,  in  silence.     After  a  while  he  said: 

"It  is  splendid,  Wistik,  that  I  still  remember,  even  in  the 
night,  and  stay  awake  and  knowing  things,  even  although  my 
body  is  asleep  in  bed.  I  will  not  be  dead  and  lie  down  like  a 
log,  forgetting  everything,  as  some  do  in  sleep.  Neither  will 
I  dream  all  sorts  of  nonsense,  as  if  every  night  I  grew  foolish. 
That  is  shameful.     I  will  not  do  so." 

"Right,  Johannes!  No  one  wishes  to  be  dead,  and  no  one 
wishes  to  be  foolish.  And  when  human  beings  sleep  they  are 
dead,  and  when  they  dream  they  are  foolish.  None  of  that 
for  me!" 

"I  shall  try  to  live  in  my  sleep,  and  to  be  wise  in  my 
dreams,"  said  Johannes.  "But  it  is  hard,  and  time  flies  so 
fast!" 

He  gazed  at  his  hands,  his  limbs,  and  his  whole  body.  He 
had  on  his  handsomest  suit.     In  amazement,  he  asked: 


384  THEQUEST 

"What  body  is  this  I  have  on,  Wistik  ?  And  how  silly  to 
wear  clothes.     What  clothes  are  these?" 

"Do  you  not  see  ?     They  are  your  own  clothes." 

So  it  was.  Johannes  recalled  them  precisely.  And  he 
held  in  his  hand  one  of  Marjon's  blue  forget-me-nots. 

"I  do  not  understand  it,  Wistik!     That  I  have  a  dream-life 

—  that  I  travel  with  you  in  the  night,  that  I  do  understand. 
But  how  did  my  clothes  get  here  ^  Do  my  clothes  dream, 
too  f " 

"Why  not?"  asked  Wistik. 

Astonished,  Johannes  continued  to  meditate.  The  water 
swirled  and  splashed  all  about  the  hollows  in  the  rocks.  The 
exquisite  warbling  of  a  yellow-finch  rang  sweet  and  plaintive 
from  between  the  clefts. 

"  But  if  everything  can  dream,  then  everthing  must  be  alive 

—  my  trousers  too,  and  my  shoes." 

"Why  not?"  said  Wistik  again.  "Just  prove  to  me  that 
they  are  not." 

The  way  to  do  that  was  not  clear  to  Johannes. 

"Or  perhaps,"  he  resumed,  "perhaps  I  make  everything  — 
rocks,  sea,  light,  and  clothing.  One  or  the  other;  /  dream  it 
and  make  it,  or  it  dreams  everything  itself  and  makes  itself." 

"It  cannot  be  any  other  way,"  assented  Wistik. 

"  But  then,  I  could  make  something  else  if  I  wished  to." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  said  Wistik. 

"A  violin  ?     Could  I  make  a  violin,  and  then  play  on  it?" 

"Just  try  it,"  said  Wistik. 

Behold!  There  was  the  violin  —  all  ready  for  him.  Jo- 
hannes took  it,  and  passed  the  bow  over  the  strings  as  if  he 
had  handled  it  all  his  life.  The  most  glorious  music  came 
from  it  —  as  fine  as  any  he  had  ever  heard. 

"Oh,  Wistik!  Do  you  hear  ?  Who  would  ever  have  thought 
that  I  could  make  such  music!" 

"'Vraagal  can  do  all  that  Vraagal  wills,'  said  Pan." 

"Yes,"  said  Johannes,  musing  an  instant,  and  forgetting 
his  violin,  which  forthwith  vanished.     "Pan  also  spoke  of  the 


THEQUEST  385 

real  Devil,  you  remember.  He  said  that  I  must  ask  you  to 
show  him  to  me." 

Wistik  had  drawn  up  his  little  knees  and  placed  his  arms 
about  them,  his  long  beard  hanging  down  in  front  to  his  shins. 
Sitting  thus,  he  threw  a  sidelong  glance  at  Johannes,  to  see 
if  he  intended  to  do  it.  Then  his  entire  little  body  began  to 
tremble.  "Shall  we  not  take  a  little  fly  out  over  the  ocean  ?" 
he  asked. 

But  Johannes  was  not  to  be  diverted. 

"No,  I  want  to  see  the  real  Devil." 

"Are  you  sure,  Johannes?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  latter.  He  felt  himself  a  hero,  now, 
after  having  defied  the  octopus. 

"Think  well  about  it,"  said  Wistik. 

"What  does  he  look  like?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"I  think,"  said  Johannes,  beginning  to  look  stern  and 
angry,  "I  think  he  looks  like  Marjon's  sister." 

"Why?"  asked  Wistik. 

"Because  I  hate  her!"  Because  whatever  I  thmk  beautiful 
she  always  spoils  for  me,  and  spoils  it  through  the  remem- 
brance alone.  She  looks  like  Marjon,  and  she  also  looks  like 
that  dear  friend  about  whom  I  am  always  thinking;  and  yet 
she  is  not  the  same  —  she  is  ugly  and  common.  She  kissed 
me  once,  and  it  has  spoiled  my  life." 

"Wrong,  Johannes!  He  does  not  look  in  the  least  like 
that,"  said  Wistik. 

Suddenly,  Johannes  noticed  that  the  bright  light  was  grow- 
ing dimmer,  and  that  the  great  firm  rocks  began  to  quiver  and 
shake  as  if  seen  through  heated  air,  uneven  glass,  or  flowing 
water. 

Then,  all  at  once,  he  knew,  without  descrying  it,  through 
an  inner  feeling  of  nameless  distress,  that  It  was  sitting  behind 
him. 

It!     You  know  well,  do  you  not,  what  it  was?     It  —  the 


386  THEQUEST 

same  that  sat  by  the  pool  when  that  poor  young  girl  was 
drowned  —  It  was  sitting  behind  him,  huge  and  deathly 
still.  Sunlight,  sea,  and  rocks  —  the  whole  beautiful  land, 
grew  hazy  and  vague. 

**He  is  here,"  whispered  Wistik,  "behind  us.  Bear  up, 
Johannes!     You  yourself  wanted  it." 

"What  shall  I  do  ?"  asked  Johannes,  now  very  nervous  and 
terrified. 

"Do  not  be  afraid!  For  God's  sake,  do  not  be  afraid!  If 
you  do  you  are  lost." 

"Shall  I  cry  to  God,  or  to  Jesus  ?     Or  cross  myself?" 

"He  cares  not  a  bit  for  such  things;  he  laughs  at  them; 
he  knows  all  about  them.  He  makes  fun  of  prayers  and  the 
sign  of  the  cross.  The  main  thing  is  to  keep  on  the  alert,  and 
not  to  be  afraid.  He  will  be  very  friendly,  and  show  you  all 
kinds  of  pretty  and  interesting  sights,  and  he  will  try  to  make 
you  sleepy  and  afraid.  But  you  must  not  fear  and  must  not 
forget.  Above  all,  keep  fast  hold  of  Marjon's  flower.  And 
here   .    .    .   look!" 

With  his  nervously  trembling  little  fingers  Wistik  fumbled 
in  the  small  satchel  that  always  hung  by  a  strap  over  his 
shoulder,  and  took  from  the  jumbled  lot  of  pebbles,  scissors, 
lead-pencils,  and  dried  plants,  a  little  mirror  on  the  frame  of 
which  his  name  was  neatly  engraved.  Then  in  a  voice  shaken 
and  nearly  speechless  with  emotion,  he  said:  "Hold  that  good 
and  fast!     It  is  your  salvation.     Go  now,  dear  boy.     Go!" 

And  the  good  little  fellow  wept. 

"Are  you  not  going  with  me  ?"  asked  Johannes,  in  agitation. 

"I  am  his  greatest  enemy,"  said  Wistik;  "he  cannot  en- 
dure the  sight  of  me.  But  I  will  stay  in  the  neighborhood. 
Call  me  once  in  a  while,  and  I  will  answer  you.  Then  you 
will  know  that  you  are  safe.   .   .   ." 

"Welcome,  Johannes!"  said  a  gentle,  friendly  voice,  and  a 
soft  warm  hand  clasped  his  own.  "You  are  not  embarrassed 
in  my  presence,  I  hope." 


THEQUEST  387 

Could  that  be  the  Evil  One  ?  A  nice,  polite  person  like 
that,  with  such  taking  manners,  and  such  a  caressing  voice  ? 
Johannes  looked  round,  in  amazement,  to  the  place  where  It 
was.  He  could  not  distinguish  clearly,  nor  look  straight  at 
the  speaker,  but  he  seemed  to  be  an  ordinary,  modish  gentle- 
man, with  a  frank,  smiling  face  —  well  dressed  in  a  brown 
suit  and  a  straw  hat. 

"Would  you  not  Hke  to  make  acquaintance  with  me  and  my 
Museum?"  continued  the  speaker.  "It  is  an  excellent  col- 
lection —  sure  to  please  you.  But  what  have  you  in  your 
hand  ?  Not  a  mirror,  is  it  ?  Fie!  You  must  throw  it  away. 
I  have  no  patience  with  such  mirrors.  I  abhor  them!  They 
foster  only  conceit." 

The  soft  hand  essayed  to  take  away  the  mirror,  but  Johan- 
nes held  it  fast,  and  said  firmly:  "I  will  keep  the  mirror." 

He  had  scarcely  said  this  when  there  flitted  across  that  smil- 
ing, honest-looking  face  a  shade  of  indescribable  malice.  It  was 
very  brief,  but  plain  enough  to  cause  Johannes  a  shudder,  and 
to  convince  him  that  truly  the  Evil  One  stood  before  him. 

But  instantly  the  face  became  again  most  frank  and  win- 
ning, and  he  heard: 

"Very  well,  then,  as  you  please.  We  will  begin  by  making 
the  acquaintance  of  my  subjects  —  all  of  them  friends,  com- 
rades, or  relatives." 

Just  then  Johannes  heard  again  the  well-remembered  whis- 
pering and  giggling  which  he  had  heard  while  watching  the 
little  hands.  On  all  sides,  amid  much  rustling  and  shuffling, 
he  heard  breathing,  coughing,  and  sniffling  —  all  sorts  of  queer 
human  sounds,  as  if  the  place  was  thronged  with  people.  But 
still  he  could  see  nothing. 

"You  fancied  I  was  very  different,  did  you  not,  Johannes? 
That  I  had  horns  and  a  tail  ?  That  idea  is  out  of  date.  No 
one  believes  it  now.  Thank  God  we  are  forever  above  that 
foolish  separation  of  good  and  evil.  That  is  untenable  Dual- 
ism.    My  kingdom  is  as  good  as  the  other." 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Johannes. 


388  THE    QUEST 

"  They  call  me  King  Waan.*  Yes,  indeed  !  I  am  a  king, 
if  I  do  appear  so  humble.  Besides,  external  pomp  is  out  of 
fashion.  I  am  a  constitutional,  bourgeois,  democratic  king. 
Here,  Bangeling  !  *  Come  here !  This  is  my  most  trusty 
helper  —  my  right   hand,  in   fact." 

Johannes  shuddered  at  the  sight  of  Bangeling  —  a  shrink- 
ing, stooping,  pale,  and  loathsome  youngster.  His  eyes  were 
red-rimmed,  and  glanced  shiftingly  right  and  left  —  never 
straight  in  front.  His  lean  knees  knocked  against  each  other, 
and  every  moment  his  rag-covered  body  twitched  with  terror, 
and  he  cried:  "Oh,  Heaven!  Oh,  God!  Now  you  will 
catch  it!     It  is  too  late!     Too  la-a-ate!" 

To  hear  and  see  this  repeatedly,  without  becoming  fright- 
ened oneself,  was  not  easy;  but  Johannes  pressed  his  flower 
close  to  his  breast  and  cried: 

"Wistik!" 

"Ay,  ay!"  he  heard  his  good  little  friend  shout. 

But  the  voice  sounded  from  above,  and  far  away.  And 
suddenly  Johannes  had  a  very  distinct  sensation  of  falling, 
fast  as  lightning,  down  fathomless  depths,  although  every- 
thing around  him  remained  the  same. 

"Are  we  falling  down  below?"  he  asked. 

King  Waan  gave  Johannes  a  falsely-sweet  smile.  "One 
should  not  ask  such  impolite  questions  when  making  a  visit," 
said  he. 

"Get  away!"  cried  Johannes  to  Bangeling,  who  was  now 
standing  close  beside  them,  twitching  and  whining.  Then  a 
throng  of  frightful  figures  pushed  forward,  trying  to  approach 
him,  grinning,  twisted,  misformed  faces — some  with  big  purple 
noses,  others  with  drooling  lips  —  still  others  pale,  and  passive, 
with  closed  eyes,  but  with  scornful  muttering  mouths. 

Johannes  knew  these  figures  well;  he  had  often  when  a  child 
seen  them  in  his  dreams.  And  doubtless  you  also  have 
seen  many  of  them  in  the  night  —  just  before  the  measles 
broke  out,  or  after  you  have  eaten  too  much  pie  for  dinner. 

And  you  were  very  much  afraid   of  them,  were  you  not.? 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


THEQUEST  389 

Perhaps  as  much  as  formerly  Johannes  was.  But  this  time 
he  was  not  in  the  least  afraid.  When  they  came  too  near, 
he  called  out  in  a  fierce  voice:  "Back!"  Then  they  grew 
pale,  and  crumpled  up  like  withered  toadstools. 

"This  one  is  Ginnegap  !  "*  said  the  Devil,  pointing  out  a 
girl-like  being  with  open  mouth,  dull  eyes,  and  a  finger  in  each 
nasty  nostril,  who  was  constantly  tittering.  "  Another  excel- 
lent assistant  of  mine.  Here  are  Labbekak  *  and  Goedzak  ;  * 
charming  twins,  compact  of  goodness  and  charity.  Just 
look!  They  quiver  and  quake  like  jelly.  They  have  no 
bones,  and  they  never  did  any  wrong.  If  they  do  not  belong 
in  heaven,  who  does  ?" 

"Of  course  they  have  no  sense,"  said  Johannes. 

"But  here,  then  ^ — this  one  —  an  old  acquaintance  of 
yours.     Maybe  you  think  he  has  no  wits,  either?" 

Who  was  it  Johannes  saw  there  ?  Pluizer,  in  truth  —  his 
old  enemy  Pluizer!  But  he  lacked  a  good  deal  of  looking  so 
pert  and  fierce  as  formerly.  Upon  seeing  Johannes  he  hid 
himself  behind  the  back  of  a  stout,  dumpy  demon. 

"A  little  to  one  side,  Sleur!"  said  the  king  to  the  bulky 
devil.     "Give  Johannes  a  peep  at  his  old  friend." 

But  Sleur  did  not  budge.  He  was  very  sluggish.  Pluizer 
called  out: 

"Does  Death  know  about  it,  Johannes  —  that  you  are 
already  here  ?" 

"What  is  this  place,  really?"  asked  Johannes.  "Hell? 
Is  it  here  that  Dante  was  ?" 

"Dante  ?"  asked  the  Devil.  And  all  his  retainers  whispered 
and  tittered  and  chattered:  "Dante  ?     Dante?     Dante?" 

"Surely,"  resumed  the  king,  "you  must  mean  that  nice 
place  full  of  light  where  it  is  so  hot  and  smells  so  bad;  where 
sand  melts;  where  rivers  of  blood  are  seething,  and  the  boiling 
pitch  is  ever  bubbling;  where  they  scream  and  yell  and  curse 
and  lament,  and  swear  at  one  another." 

"Yes,"  said  Johannes.     "Dante  told  about  that." 

*'  But,  my  little  friend  !  "  said  the  Devil,  affably,  "  that  is 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


390  THEQUEST 

not  here,  as  you  can  very  well  see.  That  is  not  my  kingdom. 
That  is  the  kingdom  of  another  who,  they  say,  is  called  Love. 
With  me,  no  one  suffers.  I  am  not  so  cruel  as  that.  I  cause 
no  one  pain." 

"I  know  that  well,"  said  Johannes,  "for  so  long  as  I  have 
pain  I  am  alive  and  am  warned.     Is  it  not  so,  Wistik  ?" 

"Yes!"  cried  the  little  fellow,  his  voice  now  sounding  as  if 
far  in  the  distance  —  up  above. 

"We  are  falling  all  the  time!"  said  Johannes,  in  great  alarm. 

"Do  not  think  about  it.  Does  it  make  you  dizzy?  I 
thought  you  were  so  level-headed.  Just  give  this  a  look.  This 
is  my  cabinet  of  curiosities." 

And  before  Johannes  knew  that  he  had  entered  anything 
he  found  himself  in  a  very  small,  close  room.  It  was  exactly 
like  a  bathroom  with  low  ceilings,  and  was  brightly  lighted. 

"You  did  not  think  to  find  it  so  well  lighted  here,  did 
you  I 

"Trick-light!"  shouted  Wistik,  his  voice  coming  faintly 
from  above. 

"Look!     Here  lies  an  acquaintance  of  yours." 

And  King  Waan  pointed  to  a  straight  white  form  that  lay 
on  the  stone  floor.  It  was  Helene;  and  Johannes  saw  that 
she  was  calmly  sleeping. 

Two  imps  stood  looking  at  her;  one  was  Bangeling;  the 
other,  equally  small  and  dirty,  stood  gnawing  his  nails.  His 
head,  with  its  misshapen  ears,  was  much  too  big  for  him. 
He  had  on  a  barret-cap  of  aniline  blue  velvet,  with  russet  rib- 
bons, a  pale-green  blouse  of  Scotch  plaid,  and  short  trousers, 
as  purple  as  spoiled  berry-juice. 

"That  is  Degeneracy,"  said  Waan.  "These  two  brought 
her  here;  a  deserving  deed.  We  hope  to  keep  her.  Look! 
See  how  peacefully  she  sleeps." 

The  sight  of  the  pale,  still  sleeper,  with  her  outspread 
black  hair,  made  Johannes  also  feel  drowsy.  But  he  looked 
in  his  little  mirror,  holding  his  eyes  open,  hard,  and  called: 
"Helena!" 


THEQUEST  391 

The  long  dark  lashes  were  lifted  just  a  little. 

"Pst!  Not  a  word!"  said  the  king.  "Here  we  come  to 
number  two  —  a  pretty  and  clever  piece  of  work." 

By  a  little  door,  so  low  and  narrow  that  Johannes  had  to 
wriggle  his  way  through  it,  they  entered  the  next  place.  They 
were  in  an  extremely  smart  little  church  —  a  dolls'  church. 
The  walls  were  bare  and  white,  and  little  candles  were  burn- 
ing. In  the  pulpit  stood  a  tiny  little  dominie,  preaching  fer- 
vidly, gesticulating  with  hand  and  head. 

"Dominie  Kraalboom!"  cried  Johannes,  in  astonishment. 
Who  is  he  raving  at?" 

"Look  at  him,  Johannes!"  said  Waan.  "Only  do  not 
think  he  is  dead.  In  order  to  come  here  one  does  not  have  to 
wait  till  death.  And  do  you  not  see  at  whom  he  is  raving  ? 
Take  a  good  look." 

"Reflectors!"  exclaimed  Johannes.  In  reality  the  little 
church  was  empty,  but  it  was  everywhere  furnished  with 
pretty  little  mirrors,  and  in  each  one  of  them  was  reflected  the 
dominie's  little  face  surrounded  by  a  halo. 

"Those  mirrors  are  of  peculiar  manufacture.  I  make 
much  use  of  them.  The  imported  article  alone  I  cannot  en- 
dure.    Look  !  here  is  the  counterpart." 

Another  little  church  —  just  as  smart  and  neat  and  light. 
But  here  there  were  many  more  candles,  also  flowers  and 
images.  The  walls  were  gaudily  painted  with  pictures,  and 
Father  Canisius  stood  in  glittering,  gold-embroidered  gar- 
ments, praying  and  mumbling  before  the  altar. 

Johannes  looked  up  at  the  stained-glass  windows.  It  was 
as  dark  as  pitch  behind  them. 

"What  is  outside  there?"  he  asked.  "Just  let  me  look 
out."  And  he  thought  he  could  hear  the  snickering  and  gig- 
gling of  the  imps  who  were  peering  through  the  windows. 

"Keep  away!     Silence!"  cried  the  king,  sternly. 

"Wistik!"  called  Johannes. 

"Ay!"  sounded  the  voice,  now  very  fine,  and  far  away. 
And  they  kept  falling,  falling. 


392  THEQUEST 

Through  a  long,  narrow  passage  they  went  to  the  next 
number.  It  did  not  smell  very  fresh  there,  and  Johannes 
soon  noticed  that  this  stale-smelling  apartment  corresponded 
with  what  they  usually  called  at  home  "the  best  room." 

In  the  middle  of  the  white-wood  floor  stood  an  overturned 
waste-water  pail.  A  puddle  of  thick,  offensive  fluid  lay 
trickling  around  it. 

"Under  this,"  said  King  Waan,  "sits  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable specimens  in  my  collection.  It  is  a  little  creature 
having  the  habit  of  describing  precisely  everything  it  sees. 
His  watchword  is:  'Truth  Above  Everything!'  He  could 
not  have  a  finer  one.  I  make  very  interesting  experiments 
with  him.  Sometimes  I  put  him  here,  sometimes  there.  Just 
now  he  is  under  this  pail.     Listen  to  him!" 

A  light  little  voice  came  monotonously  out  from  under  the 
pail: 

"A  rich,  soft  greyish  violet  shading  off  through  brown  into 
cream-white,  clot-curdling  stripe  coagulations;  long  flittery- 
fluttery  down-trickling  welter-whirls  filtering  through  pale- 
yellow  toned-down  dully  shining  topazy  vaults;  faint  phlegmy 
greyish-green  dozing  off  ..." 

And  thus  the  voice  went  on  until  Johannes  began  to  get  quite 
qualmish  and  drowsy. 

"  Is  not  that  nice  ?  Lately,  I  had  him  in  a  cuspidor.  You 
should  have  heard  him  then.     Here  is  his  label." 

And  he  pointed  to  a  trim  little  tag  on  which  was  marked: 
Division,  Fine  Arts.  Naturalist,  var.  JVord-Artist.  Local- 
ity:  Terra  Firma  of  Europe.     Rather  rare. 

"Is  Van  Lieverlee  here,  also?"  asked  Johannes. 

"To  be  sure!  I  have  him  a  few  centuries  farther  on,  com- 
posing sonnets,"  said  the  Wicked  One.  "This  is  a  very 
large  place  although  you  might  not  think  so.  I  can  show  you 
only  a  small  part  of  it." 

Then  they  came  to  a  division  called  "Sciences,"  and  the 
Devil  said: 


THEQUEST  393 

"Look!     That  concerns  you,  Wisdom-Seeker!" 

And  he  had  Johannes  look  through  the  crack  of  the  door, 
into  a  httle  room  brightly  lighted,  cram-full  of  books.  Pro- 
fessor Bommeldoos  was  there,  standing  on  his  head. 

"Pluizer  taught  him  that,"  said  the  Devil.  "And  do  you 
see  that  clever  contrivance  he  has  made  of  mirrors  and  copper 
tubes  ?  That  is  to  look  into  his  own  brains  with.  He  thinks 
to  become  still  wiser." 

The  professor  was  utterly  absorbed  in  his  intricate  appa- 
ratus, and  gazed  and  gazed,  with  all  his  might,  into  an  odd 
sort  of  twisted  tubing,  the  end  of  which  was  attached  to  the 
back  part  of  his  head. 

Johannes  heard  a  low  rushing  and  roaring,  as  if  made  by  a 
gust  of  wind. 

"Silence!"  cried  the  Devil,  testily. 

But  the  roaring  sound  continued  and  grew  louder. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Johannes. 

"  That  is  Death,"  said  the  Devil,  spitefully.  "  He  is  called 
an  ally  of  mine,  but  he  often  muddles  up  my  affairs  here,  and 
he  steals  by  the  thousand  the  choicest  specimens  in  my  col- 
lection—  especially  the  crack-brained." 

"  Here  they  are  all  crack-brained,"  said  Johannes. 

"  Yes  ;  but  those  you  in  the  awake-life  call  that,  he  snatches 
away  from  me.  Here  we  come  to  the  division,  "  Happiness." 
This  is  the  richest  man  in  the  world.  Would  you  like  a  mag- 
nifying glass  ?" 

The  pen  wherein  sat  the  richest  man  in  the  world  was  all 
of  gold,  but  so  small  that  Johannes  could  not  possibly  enter 
it.  The  richest  man  in  the  world  had  a  large  head,  quite 
bare  and  bald,  above  a  very  small  insignificant  body.  He 
moved  slowly  back  and  forth,  like  a  caterpillar  incasing  him- 
self; and  out  of  his  little  lips  there  driveled  golden  threads  with 
which  he  made  a  cocoon  of  himself. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Johannes,  shuddering. 

"  Nonsense  !  Nonsense  !  "  returned  the  Devil.  "  Here 
they  are  all  happy.     They  know  no  better.      I  never  torment 


394 


THE    QUEST 


as  does  the  Other  with  his  Love  eternal.  I  have  also 
here  the  classification  'War.'  You  would  naturally  think 
that  these  must  be  unhappy.  But  quite  the  contrary.  In 
general,  I  am  an  enemy  of  war.  I  prefer  peace,  as  you  will 
presently  see.  But  this  is  a  pleasant  'War.'  In  fact,  the 
people  enjoy  it.     For  that  reason  it    belongs  here." 

And  now  they  came  to  a  long  row  of  very  small  pens  in 
which  was  just  such  a  bustle  as  one  hears  at  night  in  a  chicken- 
coop  when  the  fowls  are  going  to  sleep.  Over  each  little  pen 
was:  "  Religions  War"  ^^  Party  Strife,"  ^^Class  Strife  "  a.nd  as 
Johannes  looked  in  through  a  small  window,  he  saw  a  soli- 
tary little  fellow,  much  excited  and  red  in  the  face,  who  stood 
skirmishins  in  front  of  a  mirror.  The  reflection  of  his  own 
figure  was  so  queer  that  it  looked  like  someone's  else. 

In  the  third  pen  Johannes  saw  Dr.  Felbeck.  With  furious 
fists,  the  little  fellow  rushed  up  to  the  mirror  again  and  again, 
and  stamped  and  scolded  and  raved  until  the  foam  flew  from 
his  mouth. 

Then  they  came  to  a  very  long  and  diminishing  little  room 
that  bore  the  words  Love  and  Peace. 

"There!"  said  the  Devil.  "Now  we  can  talk  aloud.  They 
are  not  easily  wakened  here.  Snug  and  cozy,  is  it  not  ?  A 
section  of  it  also  is  Pure  Living,  and  Piety,  and  Benevo- 
lence. 

In  the  little  ward  stood  many  tiny  beds,  as  in  a  hospital; 
and  Johannes  saw  Labbekak  and  Goedzak  in  slovenly  felt 
slippers,  shuffling  back  and  forth,  distributing  cups  of  warm 
tea  and  spoonfuls  of  a  syrupy  mixture.  The  beings  in  the 
little  beds  licked  off"  the  spoons,  and  fell  asleep  again. 

Outside,  the  demons  yelled  and  screeched  still  louder,  and 
the  downward  motion  was  so  apparent  that  Johannes  grew 
dizzy. 

"Here,  also,"  said  the  Devil,  "Death  does  me  much  harm." 

Johannes  looked  at  him.  He  now  appeared  wholly  differ- 
ent. His  brown  suit  had  disappeared,  and  his  smooth  supple 
body  —  as  shiny  as  a  snakeskin  —  was  as  iridescent  as  water 


THEOUEST  395 

stirred  by  dripping  tar.  His  face,  too,  was  far  less  affable. 
Hollow  and  grinning,  it  began  to  look  like  a  death's  head. 

"You  are  the  real  Death!"  exclaimed  Johannes.  "The 
other  is  a  good  friend  of  mine.     I  have  no  more  fear  of  him." 

The  Devil  laughed  and  reached  out  his  hand  toward  Johan- 
nes' little  flower.  But  Johannes  caught  it  up  close  to  his 
breast.  The  flower  hung  limp  and  seemed  to  be  perishing. 
The  little  mirror  shook  like  a  leaf  in  his  hand,  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  hold  it. 

"  Wistik!"  he  cried. 

He  listened,  but  could  hear  nothing.  And  now  he  seemed 
to  be  falling  with  whizzing  speed.  Johannes  was  greatly 
alarmed.  The  long  ward  with  its  rows  of  little  beds  grew 
ever  longer,  ever  narrower. 

"Wistik!  Marjon!  Let  me  out!  Let  me  out!  Set  me 
free!" 

"I  have  also  a  classification  'Freedom',"  remarked  the 
Devil,  pointing  out  a  mannikin  who,  busy  with  a  long  ribbon 
inscribed  w^ith  the  words  ''Freedom  and  Justice,^'  kept  wind- 
ing it  around  his  head,  arms,  and  legs  until  he  could  not  move 
a  muscle. 

"No!"  cried  Johannes,  banging  with  both  hands  —  in 
which  were  still  clutched  his  flower  and  mirror  —  at  a  hard, 
spotted  door.     This  door  was  marked  "Sin  and  Crime." 

"Look  out!"  said  the  Devil.  "Do  you  not  see  what  it  says 
over  It  r 

"I  do  not  care  what  it  says!"  cried  Johannes,  pounding 
away. 

"Take  care!  For  God's  sake,  take  care!"  shouted  Bange- 
Hng. 

"Help!  Wistik!  Marjon!  Markus!  help!"  cried  Johan- 
nes, crashing  through  the  door. 

Before  him  he  saw  a  black  and  bottomless  night;  but  it 
was  more  spacious,  and  he  felt  his  distress  diminishing. 

And  now  he  saw  the  imps  all  racing  after  him,  and  they 


396  THEOUEST 

were  playing  with  something.  It  ghttered  as  they  threw  it, 
one  to  another,  and  they  tugged  and  pulled  and  spit  on  it,  and 
did  things  still  worse  —  such  as  only  very  vile  and  impudent 
beings  could  do. 

It  was  a  book,  and  Johannes  saw  his  name  upon  it  —  his 
own  and  his  family  name.  Johannes  was  called  the  "Trav- 
eler" of  his  family. 

At  last  one  of  the  imps  caught  hold  of  it  by  a  leaf,  and  flung 
it  high  up  in  air  to  tear  it  to  pieces.  The  leaves  fluttered  and 
glittered,  but  held  together.  And  the  book,  ceasing  to  fall, 
went  higher  and  higher  up  into  the  dark  night  until  it  seemed 
in  the  far  distance  to  be  a  little  star. 

Johannes  kept  looking  at  it  with  all  his  might,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  were  a  light  bit  of  wood,  or  a  bubble,  rising 
swifter  and  swifter  to  the  surface  —  from  out  the  awful  depths 
of  the  sea.     Then,  slowly,  the  heavens  grew  blue  and  bright. 

At  last  he  was  drifting  in  the  full  light  of  day.  His  eyes 
were  still  closed,  but  he  felt  that  he  had  returned  to  his  day 
body,  and  he  rested  —  still  a  little  longer  —  in  the  light,  mo- 
tionless, blissful  slumber  of  a  convalescent,  or  of  one  come 
home  again  after  a  long  and  weary  journey. 


XII 

"Shall  we  go  to  the  beach  this  morning?"  asked  Countess 
Dolores  after  breakfast.  "It  will  be  fresh  and  cool  there 
now." 

It  was  a  merry  morning  trip.  Both  of  t^e  little  girls  went 
with  them,  and  Johannes  carried  a  small  folding  chair,  and 
his  friend's  book.  The  countess  took  a  seat  in  a  beach-chair, 
and  Johannes  sat  at  her  feet  and  read  aloud  to  her,  while  the 
two  children  —  their  skirts  tucked  up,  and  their  little  feet  and 
legs  bare  and  pink  in  the  clear  light  —  busied  themselves  in 
the  water  and  sand,  with  their  pails  and  shovels. 

Everything  was  flooded  with  sunshine,  and  clearly,  beauti- 
fully tinted:  —  the  knotted  blonde  tresses  of  the  little  girls  — 
beneath  their  broad-brimmed  white  beach-hats  —  against  the 
delicate  blue  of  the  horizon;  the  still  deeper  blue  of  the  sea 
wherein  could  be  seen  the  bright  figures  of  the  bathers  in  their 
red  and  blue  bathing-dresses;  and  right  and  left  the  pure  white 
sand,  and  the  snowy  foam. 

Johannes  had  indeed  become  quite  accustomed  to  what  had 
so  pained  him  at  first  —  the  profanation  of  the  sea  by  human 
beings  —  so  they  were  happy  hours. 

He  resolved  this  morning  to  resume  his  inquiries  after 
Markus,  as  soon  as  he  was  at  liberty  to  do  so. 

They  had  not  been  sitting  long  on  the  beach  when  Van 
Lieverlee  came  sauntering  -up,  arrayed  in  white  flannel.  He 
was  without  a  waistcoat,  but  wore  a  lilac  shirt,  and  a  wide, 
black-silk  girdle,  and  had  on  a  straw  hat. 

He  gave  the  countess  a  graceful  cordial  greeting,  and  imme- 
diately said  to  Johannes,  this  time  without  irony: 

"I  sent  to  my  uncle,  this  morning,  for  information.  Your 
friend  is  not  there  now.  He  received  his  discharge  last  Sat- 
urday on  account  of  his  disorderly  conduct." 

"What  had  he  done?"  asked  Johannes. 

397 


398  THEQUEST 

"He  had  delivered  an  address  at  the  exchange  when,  mark 
you,  he  had  gone  there  on  a  matter  of  business.  Now,"  said 
Van  Lieverlee,  looking  at  the  countess  with  a  smile,  "it  is 
quite  obvious  that  a  man  of  affairs  could  not  retain  such  a 
clerk  as  that.  It  takes  my  uncle  Van  Trigt,  who  is  so  jealous 
of  his  good  name,  to  deal  with  such  cases." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Dolores. 

"It  depends,  though,  upon  what  he  said,"  ventured 
Johannes. 

"No!  One  talks  about  business  at  the  exchange  — not 
about  reason  and  morality.  There  is  a  time  and  a  place  for 
everything.  My  uncle  was  well  satisfied  with  him  in  all  else. 
He  had  taken  him  for  a  rather  well-bred  person,  he  said.  But 
the  man  has  a  remarkable  propensity  for  discoursing  in  public 
places." 

"Where  is  he  now.f'" 

"Where  is  any  idler  who  has  received  his  discharge?  Off 
looking  for  an  easy  berth,  I  should  say." 

"Is  your  friend  so  very  poor?"  asked  the  countess,  in  a 
serious  whisper,  as  one  would  speak  over  the  shame  of  a 
kinsman. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Johannes,  with  a  positiveness  that  was 
a  challenge.     "Indeed,  he  would  be  ashamed  not  to  be  poor." 

"I  think  such  men  insufferable!"  exclaimed  Van  Lieverlee. 
"As  Socrates  said,  their  conceit  can  be  seen  through  the  holes 
in  their  clothes.  Without  even  opening  their  mouths  they  — 
every  one  of  them  —  seem  to  be  forever  preaching  morals  and 
finding  fault.  I  hate  the  tribe.  They  are  of  all  men  the  most 
turbulent  and  dangerous." 

Johannes  had  never  yet  seen  Van  Lieverlee  so  angry,  but  he 
remained  cool  throughout  the  tirade,  and  kept  his  temper. 

The  countess  said  in  a  languid  voice: 

"He  certainly  is  very  immoderate.  I  cannot  say,  either, 
that  such  pronounced  types  are  to  my  taste." 

Johannes  was  silent,  and  the  other  two  talked  together  a 
while  longer.     The  children  came  up  nearer,  and  lying  down 


THE    GUEST 


399 


in  the  clean,  clear  sand,  they  listened  to  the  conversation.  It 
was  a  bright  group,  tor  they  were  all  dressed  in  white,  except 
Johannes. 

At  last  Van  Lieverlee  rose  to  go,  and  the  countess,  clinging 
to  his  hand,  with  a  certain  warmth  of  manner  said: 

"Of  course  you  are  coming  to  dinner?" 

"Most  assuredly!"  replied  Van  Lieverlee. 

After  he  had  gone,  there  were  several  moments  of  con- 
strained silence  —  a  sort  of  suspense  so  obvious  that  even  the 
children  did  not  resume  their  chatter  as  usual,  but  continued 
silently  playing  with  the  sand,  as  if  waiting  for  something  to  be 
said. 

Johannes  also  began  to  comprehend  that  something  was 
pending,  but  he  had  no  idea  of  what  it  could  be. 

At  last  the  lady  said,  rather  hesitatingly,  while  tracing  all 
kinds  of  curious  figures  in  the  sand,  with  her  parasol: 

"Have  you  not  observed  anything,  Johannes?" 

"Observed  anything?  I?  No,  Mevrouw,"  replied  Johan- 
nes, with  some  discomposure.  He  surely  had  observed 
nothing. 

"I  have!"  said  Olga,  decidedly,  without  looking  up. 

"I,  too!"  lisped  Frieda  after  her. 

"Hear  the  little  smarties!"  said  Mevrouw,  laughing  in  con- 
fusion, and  blushing.     "Well,  what  have  you  observed?" 

"A  new  papa!"  replied  Olga. 

"A  new  papa!"  repeated  Frieda. 

Johannes  looked  up  in  some  surprise  and  perplexity,  into 
the  beautiful,  laughing  eyes,  and  exquisite,  blushing  face  of 
his  friend. 

Her  laugh  was  a  confirmation;  and  accompanying  her  ques- 
tion with  a  shake  of  the  head,  she  continued: 

"Really,  do  you  not  understand  yet  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Johannes,  in  all  seriousness.  "Who  is  the 
new  papa  ?" 


400  THEQUEST 

"There  he  goes,"  said  Olga,  pointing  with  her  Httle  white 
finger  after  Van  Lieverlee.  And  Frieda,  too,  stretched  out 
her  Httle  hand  in  his  direction. 

"Fie,  children!     Do  not  point,"  said  Mevrouw. 

And  Johannes  began  to  comprehend  —  much  as  one  does 
who  has  fallen  out  of  a  window,  or  has  been  struck  on  the 
head  with  a  stone.  As  in  the  latter  case,  his  first  thought  was 
astonishment  at  the  cause  of  the  blow,  and  that  he  could  pos- 
sibly survive  it„ 

The  blue  air,  the  sea,  the  sand,  the  series  of  light-green 
dunes,  the  houses,  the  white  figures  —  everything  reeled  and 
whirled,  and  then  grew  altogether  black.  He  could  not  think, 
but  only  felt  that  he  was  extremely  uncomfortable  and  qualm- 
ish.    He  was  obliged  to  go. 

As  he  stood  up,  he  heard  the  words:  "How  pale  you  are!" 
That  was  the  last.  Then  he  walked  away,  beside  the  sea, 
hearing  nothing  save  the  washing  of  the  waves  upon  the  sand 
and  the  rushing  of  the  blood  in  his  ears. 

He  staggered  a  little  back  and  forth,  as  if  he  had  been 
drinking  too  much,  and  he  wondered  how  that  could  be. 

At  last  he  could  no  longer  see  the  people  or  houses  —  only 
water,  sky,  and  sand. 

It  seemed  to  have  been  his  intention;  for,  weak  and  limp,  he 
went  and  lay  down  in  the  loose  sand,  and  fell  into  a  drowse. 


XIII 

Such  drowsing  is  not  real  sleep,  neither  does  it  refresh.  When 
Johannes  awoke  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  his  throat  was 
parched,  and  he  felt  as  if  his  heart  were  shriveled  in  his  breast. 
He  essayed  to  think  over  what  had  happened,  but  it  was  too 
bitter  and  too  frightful.  He  looked  at  the  imprinted  sand 
where  he  had  been  lying,  as  if  he  would  go  to  sleep  again.  But 
now  he  could  not  sleep,  and  must  stay  awake. 

He  sat  up  and  stared  at  the  sea,  and  then  again  at  the  dunes. 
What  was  it  that  had  befallen  him  ?  A  very  long  time  —  he 
knew  not  himself  how  long  —  he  sat  looking.  Then  he  stood 
up,  feeling  stiff  and  sluggish,  as  if  dead  tired  from  a  long 
journey.  Slowly  and  aimlessly  he  dragged  himself  into  the 
dunes,  and  tried  to  take  an  interest  in  the  beetles  and  the 
flowers.  Sometimes,  from  force  of  habit,  he  succeeded;  but 
immediately  there  returned  the  shudderings  which  that  cruel 
blow  had  caused. 

It  had  never  entered  his  head  that  he  himself  would  marry 
his  friend.  Why,  then,  should  it  go  to  his  heart  as  if  he  were 
flung  aside  and  trampled  upon,  now  that  another  was  about  to 
take  the  place  of  her  husband  ? 

"It  must  not  —  must  not  be!"  was  all  he  could  say.  He 
very  well  knew  that  the  world  did  not  always  concern  itself  with 
his  thoughts,  and  that  his  day-life  was  conducted  quite  differ- 
ently from  his  night-life  where  everything  proceeded  from  his 
will  and  wish.  But  this  was  so  squarely  against  his  desires  and 
ideas  that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  world  ynust  care  about  it. 

Naturally,  the  world  continued  not  to  mind  anything  about 
it,  because  the  world  is  a  far  greater  and  stronger  thought  than 
that  of  Little  Johannes. 

And  if  he  had  been  sensible  he  would  have  modestly  ad- 
mitted it,  because  it  is  true.  Then,  at  the  most,  that  truth 
would  only  have  saddened  him. 

401 


402  THEQUEST 

But  he  was  not  yet  very  wise,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  admit 
that  his  mind  and  thought  were  still  weak  and  small  com- 
pared with  the  great  world-thought.  And  therefore  he  was 
not  only  sad,  but  angry  as  well. 

Do  not  judge  him  too  harshly,  for  he  was  still  more  boy 
than  man.  And  how  few  7nen  even  there  are  with  such  clear 
good  sense  that  they  impute  the  variance  solely  to  their  own 
weakness  and  stupidity,  and  do  not  become  dismayed  and 
embittered  when  the  world  differs  from  them. 

Johannes,  then,  was  angry  —  furiously  angry.  That  surely 
was  not  sensible,  but  yet  it  proved  that  he  had  more 
stamina  than  had  Labbekak  and  Goedzak. 

And  all  his  anger  was  directed  against  that  person  who  had 
thrust  him  aside  from  the  place  which  he  had  so  long,  without 
being  aware  of  it,  considered  his  own.  He  thought  Van 
Lieverlee  not  only  a  tiresome  fool,  but  also  an  odious,  abom- 
inable monster  that  ought  to  be  exterminated. 

And  as  his  fancy  pictured  other  figures,  and  he  thought  of 
that  other  hated  being,  Marjon's  sister,  and  then  again  of  Van 
Lieverlee,  and  his  dear,  beautiful,  winsome  friend,  he  found 
himself  closely  and  frightfully  besieged  by  insupportable 
thoughts  —  as  if  in  a  fire-begirt  city,  all  aglow  and  scorch- 
ing, with  ever  narrowing  streets. 

It  was  impossible  to  cry.  At  other  times,  as  you  surely 
must  have  observed,  his  tears  came  quickly  enough.  But  now 
his  eyes  seemed  to  have  been  cauterized.  Eyes,  heart,  brains, 
and  ideas  —  all  were  equally  hot  and  dry,  and  strained  and 
distressed. 

He  went  home  at  night  with  no  idea  of  the  hour.  He  had 
eaten  nothinc,  but  felt  neither  hunger  nor  thirst.  Where  he 
had  been  for  so  long,  he  was  unable  to  tell.  He  went  to  his 
room  and  began  trifling  with  his  knickknacks  —  his  souvenirs, 
books,  and  little  treasures  —  for  he  was  a  collector. 

His  hostess  came  to  rap  at  his  door  and  to  ask  what  was 
the  matter  —  where  he  had  been,  and  why  he  had  been  absent 
from  his  afternoon  lessons.     But  Johannes  did  not  invite  her 


THE    QUEST  403 

in,  and  said  that  he  wished  to  be  alone.  And  she,  half  sur- 
mising the  truth,  and  distressed  about  it,  did  not  insist. 

Then,  among  his  treasures,  Johannes  found  a  pair  of  com- 
passes —  a  large  pair,  one  arm  of  which  could  be  loosened  for 
the  attachment  of  a  tracing-pen.  And  that  single,  loosened 
compass-arm  was  a  shining,  three-cornered  bit  of  steel,  about 
a  finger  long,  and  as  sharp  as  a  lancet. 

With  some  wood  and  leather  he  contrived  a  handle  for  that 
bit  of  steel,  and  then  he  had  a  dagger  —  a  real,  wicked,  dan- 
gerous dagger. 

Apparently  he  did  this  merely  to  pass  away  the  time,  but 
after  it  was  finished  he  began  to  think  what  could  be  done 
with  it.  Then  what  he  wished  to  do  with  it.  And  at  last  how 
he  should  do  it,  //,  indeed,  he  was  to  do  it. 

Thus,  he  was  already  a  good  bit  on  in  an  ugly  way. 

The  octopus  that  he  had  defied  so  bravely  had  laid  for  him  a 
trap  of  which  he  was  not  aware;  for  it  has  many  more  than 
eight  arms,  and  there  are  many  more  demons  than  those 
whose  acquaintance  Johannes  had  already  made. 

He  was  going  to  step  up  to  Van  Lieverlee  and  say  to  him, 
"You  or  I."  And  if  Van  Lieverlee  should  then  laugh  at 
him,  as  he  most  likely  would,  he  would  stab  him  to  death. 

Such  thoughts  as  that  actually  took  possession  of  Little 
Johannes'  head;  for,  I  have  told  you,  indeed,  that  Love  is 
nothing  to  be  ridiculed.  Fortunately,  a  wide  gulf  yawns 
between  thought  and  deed,  otherwise  there  would  be  a  great 
many  more  accidents  upon  this  earth. 

It  was  already  past  midnight,  and  he  still  sat  pottering  and 
burnishing  and  sharpening,  when  he  heard  again  the  creaking 
of  the  stair,  that  he  now  instantly  recognized,  and  Marjon's 
step  at  the  door. 

She  opened  the  door,  and  Johannes  looked  into  her  dis- 
tended, anguished  eyes.  Her  blonde  hair  fell  straight  and 
free  over  her  shoulders,  and  her  long  white  night-dress 
reached  down  to  her  bare  feet. 

"What  are  you  doing,  Jo?"  she  asked.     "You  make  me 


404  THEQUEST 

so  anxious!  What  has  happened?  Where  have  you  been 
the  whole  long  day  ?  Why  do  you  eat  nothing  ?  And  why  are 
you  still  sitting  up,  with  a  light,  till  after  midnight  ?" 

Startled  and  distressed,  Johannes  made  no  reply.  The 
dagger  was  still  in  his  hand.  He  tried  to  hide  it,  without 
being  observed,  under  his  handkerchief.  But  Marjon  saw  it, 
and  asked  excitedly: 

"What  is  that?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Johannes,  in  shame  and  confusion,  like  a 
detected  child. 

Marjon  snatched  away  the  handkerchief,  and  looked  from 
the  shining  little  object  to  Johannes  with  an  expression  of 
mingled  pain  and  fright. 

In  silence  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  a  long  time  — 
Marjon  with  a  searching,  beseeching  gaze,  until  Johannes 
lowered  his  lids  and  let  his  head  droop. 

"Who  is  it  for  ?"  she  whispered.     "Yourself?" 

Without  speaking  or  looking  up,  Johannes  shook  his  head. 
Marjon  sighed  deeply,  as  if  relieved. 

"For  whom,  then?"  again  she  asked.     "For  .    .    .  him?" 

Johannes  nodded.     Then  she  said: 

"Poor  Jo!" 

That  sounded  strangely  to  him,  for  when  irritated  one  is 
not  apt  to  be  compassionate  toward  others  nor  toward  one's 
self.  He  thought,  rather,  to  find  abhorrence  of  his  blood- 
thirsty plan.  But  she  said  it  so  sincerely  and  fervently  that  he 
began  to  weaken,  although  not  to  the  point  of  crying. 

"  You  will  not  do  it,  will  you  ?  It  would  not  help  at  all. 
And  you  would  .  .  .  you  would  make  me  so  frightfully 
unhappy." 

"  I  cannot  endure  it,  Marjon  —  I  cattnot  endure  it!" 

Marjon  kneeled  down  by  the  table,  and  rested  her  chin  in 
her  hands.  Her  clear,  true  eyes  were  now  looking  steadily  at 
Johannes,  and  as  she  spoke  they  grew  more  tranquil.  Johan- 
nes continued  to  look  at  her  with  the  irresolute  expression  of 
one  in  despair  who  yet  hoped  for  deliverance. 


THEQUEST  405 

"Poor  Jo!"  repeated  Marjon.  And  then,  slowly,  with  fre- 
quent pauses,  she  said:  "Do  you  know  why  I  can  speak  so? 
...  I  know  exactly  how  you  feel.  I  have  felt  that  way, 
too.  I  did  not  think  that  this  would  be  the  way  of  it  —  the 
way  it  now  is.  I  only  thought,  '  She  is  going  to  have  him,  not 
I.'  And  then  I  too  said,  '  It  cannot  —  cannot  be! '  But  yet  it 
might  have  been.  And  now  you  say,  'It  cannot  be.'  But 
it  can,  just  the  same." 

Here  she  waited  a  while,  and  Johannes  looked  at  her  more 
attentively,  and  with  less  irresolution. 

"  And  now  listen,  Jo.  You  want  to  stab  that  prig,  don't  you  ? 
And  you  well  know  that  I  never  had  any  liking  for  him. 
But  now  let  me  tell  you  that  I  myself,  for  days  and  for  weeks, 
have  wanted  to  do  the  same  thing." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Johannes,  in  astonishment. 

Marjon  hid  her  face  and  said:  "It  is  the  truth,  Jo.  Not 
him,  of  course,  but   .    .    .    bother." 

"You  do  not  mean  it,  Marjon,"  said  Johannes,  indignantly. 

"I  am  in  earnest,  Jo.  I  am  not  even  sure  whether  I  came 
into  her  service  for  that  very  reason,  or  for  a  better  one." 

"My  God!  How  frightful!"  exclaimed  Johannes,  deeply 
moved. 

"There  you  are  —  alarmed  and  probably  angry.  Nat- 
urally you  think  her  lovely,  and  are  fond  of  her.  And  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself —  heartily  ashamed." 

Again  they  were  silent,  and  in  both  those  young  heads 
were  many  turbulent  thoughts. 

"And  do  you  know  what  helped  me  most  to  give  it  up? 
Not  fear  of  punishment,  nor  of  judgment,  for  I  dreaded  noth- 
ing so  much  as,  worst  of  all,  that  she  might  succeed  in  getting 
you.  But  it  helped  me  when  I  thought  how  much  you  loved 
her,  and  how  you  would  cry  and  suffer  if  you  should  see  her 
lying  dead." 

Again  they  looked  at  each  other,  steadily  and  frankly,  and 
their  eyes  were  dimmed  with  tears.     Then  said  Marjon: 

"And  now,  Jo,  think  of  this.     I  care  nothing  about  that 


4o6  THEOUEST 

man,  nor  do  you;  and  doubtless  he  would  not  be  a  great  loss. 
But  to  her  he  would  be,  and  indeed  if  you  should  kill  him,  you 
W'ould  bring  it  about  that  she  would  see  him  dead,  and  would 
have  to  cry.     Do  you  wish  to  do  that  ?" 

Johannes'  eyes  opened  wide,  and  he  looked  into  the  lamp- 

"Yes,"  said  he,  deliberately.  "  He  deceives  her  and  she 
deceives  herself.  He  is  altogether  different  from  what  she 
fancies." 

Then  Marjon,  taking  both  hands  from  the  table,  and  rest- 
ing them  upon  Johannes'  arm,  said  with  rising  voice: 

"  But  Jo,  Jo  —  indeed  everything  is  different  from  what 
we  think!  Who  can  see  just  how  and  what  people  and  things 
are  ?  I  thought  that  woman  hateful,  and  you  thought  her 
lovely.  You  think  that  fellow  odious,  while  she  thinks  him 
charming.  Really,  only  the  Father,  knows  how  things  are. 
Believe  me,  the  Father  only.  We  are  poor,  poor  creatures. 
We  know  nothinr;:  —  nothlno;." 

Then,  resting  her  head,  with  its  fair,  fine  hair,  upon  his  arm, 
she  sobbed  bitterly;  and  Johannes,  now  completely  broken 
down  and  mollified,  wept  with  her. 

Then  they  heard  a  door  open  in  the  hall.  Probably,  in 
their  agitation,  they  had  been  talking  too  loudly. 

Marjon  took  flight.  In  a  moment  of  less  excitement  she 
would  have  been  too  shrewd  for  that.  Johannes  did  indeed 
(|uickly  put  out  the  light,  but  he  saw,  through  the  crack  of  the 
door,  that  some  one  with  a  candle  was  standing  in  the  hall. 
There  was  a  meeting,  and  Johannes  overheard  a  brief  ex- 
change of  angry  words,  in  vehement,  suppressed  tones. 

The  last  he  understood  was:  "To-morrow  morning  you 
eave. 


XIV 

About  the  time  all  this  was  taking  place,  something  else  oc- 
curred which  most  of  you  will  readily  recall.  It  happened  at 
the  time  the  King  and  Queen  were  married. 

That  was  a  time  of  many  processions,  when  arches  of  honor 
were  erected  in  all  the  squares,  and  when  there  arose,  every^ 
where,  the  peculiar  odor  of  spruce-boughs  and  of  burning 
illuminants. 

And  the  life  of  the  King  and  Queen  was  far  different  from 
that  of  Little  Johannes.  They  had  to  be  decked  often  with 
beautiful  clothes,  and  then  as  often  to  be  undressed,  to  parade, 
to  sit  in  state,  to  listen  to  wearisome  harangues,  to  live  through 
long  dinners,  and  to  be  forever  bowing  and  smiling.  Such 
was  their  life. 

To  Johannes  all  this  excitement  and  these  joyful  festivities 
seemed  but  a  motley  background  against  which  his  own  sombre 
trouble  was  all  the  more  sharply  in  relief.  Although  every- 
body was  concerned  about  the  King  and  Queen,  and  no  one  at 
all  about  Little  Johannes,  he  yet  found  himself  and  his  own 
sorrow  none  the  less  important. 

You  are  aware  that  these  festivities  lasted  for  several  weeks, 
and  took  place  in  every  town  in  the  land.  In  the  evening  of 
the  day  about  which  I  last  told  you,  there  was  a  great  display 
of  fireworks  on  the  beach,  and  Johannes,  with  the  entire 
household,  went  to  see  it. 

And  there,  in  the  midst  of  all  that  crowding  and  shouting, 
he  had,  for  the  first  time,  a  chance  to  speak  with  the  beloved 
friend  who  had  caused  him  so  much  suffering.  Marjon  he 
had  not  seen,  and  he  knew  not  if  she  was  gone;  but  the  coun- 
tess seemed  as  friendly  and  as  cheerful  as  ever,  and  she  had 
not  questioned  him. 

On  the  terrace  from  which  they  watched  the  golden  columns 
rush  skyward  with  a  hiss,  and  the  "pin-wheels"  sizzle  and 

407 


4o8  THEQUEST 

fizz,  accompanied  by  the  "a-a-a-ahs!"  of  admiration  from 
the  dark,  moving  mass  of  people  —  there,  he  ventured  in  an 
undertone  to  speak  to  her. 

"What  did  you  really  think  of  me  yesterday,  Mevrouw  ?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  countess,  rather  coldly,  continuing  to 
look  at  the  fireworks,  "you  have  not  come  up  to  my  expecta- 
tions, Johannes." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Why  not?"  asked  Johannes,  sick 
at  heart. 

"Oh,  you  know  very  well.  I  was  aware  that  you  had  plain 
connections,  and  were  not  descended  from  a  distinguished 
family;  but  I  hoped  to  make  that  good,  in  some  degree, 
through  my  own  influence.  Yet  I  had  not  thought  you  so 
ordinary  as  that." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

The  lady  cast  a  disdainful  glance  upon  him. 

"Would  you  care  to  hear  it  spoken,  word  for  word? 
Liaisons,  then  —  with  inferiors.  And  at  your  age,  too.  How 
could    you  ?" 

In  a  flash  Johannes  comprehended. 

"Oh,  Mevrouw  —  but  you  mistake  —  completely.  I  am 
not  in  the  least  enamored  of  that  girl,  but  formerly  she  was 
my  little  comrade,  and  she  thinks  a  great  deal  of  me.  She 
saw  that  I  was  unhappy  yesterday,  and  then  she  came  to 
sympathize  with  me." 

"Sympathize?"  asked  the  countess,  hesitatingly,  and 
not  without  irony,  of  which  Johannes,  however,  was  un- 
conscious. 

"Yes,  Mevrouw.  But  for  her,  I  should  have  done 
desperate  things.  She  prevented  me.  She  is  a  brave 
girl. 

Then  he  told  her  still  more  of  Marjon. 

Countess  Dolores  believed  him,  and  became  more  friendly. 
In  that  caressing  voice  which  had  caused  Johannes  so  much 
unhappiness,  and  which  even  now  completely  fascinated  him, 
she  asked: 


THE    QUEST 


409 


"And  why  were  you  so  desperate,  my  boy?" 

"Do  you  not  understand?  It  was  because  of  what  you 
told  me  yesterday." 

She  understood  well  enough,  and  Johannes  thought  it 
charming  in  her  to  be  willing  to  listen  so  kindly.  But  al- 
though she  felt  flattered  she  pretended  not  to  know  what  he 
meant  —  as  if  such  an  idea  were  unthinkable. 

"But  how  can  that  make  you  feel  so  desperate,  my  boy? 
I  have  not  said,  however,  that  you  must  leave  my  house  on 
account  of  it." 

"If  that  should  take  place,  Mevrouw,  do  you  fancy  that  I 
could  remain  with  you  ?  Did  you  think  I  could  endure  that  ? 
But  it  is  not  going  to  be,  is  it  ?  It  was  only  a  jest.  Tell  me 
that  it  was!  You  were  only  teasing  me!  Tell  me  that  you 
were  only  teasing  me!" 

It  was  all  too  clear  now,  and  she  could  dissemble  no  longer. 
Half  in  kindness,  half  in  compassion,  she  said: 

"But,  my  boy,  my  boy,  what  has  got  into  your  head  ?" 

Johannes  rested  his  hand  on  her  arm,  and  asked,  implor- 
ingly: 

"You  were  not  in  earnest,  were  you?" 

But  she  freed  her  arm  gently,  saying: 

"Yes,  Johannes,  I  was  in  earnest." 

And  now  he  knew  that  he  was  hoping  against  hope. 

"Is  there  no  hope  for  me  ?" 

The  countess  smilingly  shook  her  head. 

"No,  dear  boy,  not  the  least.  Put  the  thought  quite  away 
from  you." 

The  last  of  the  rockets  rushed  up  with  a  startling  hiss,  to 
burst  in  the  black  sky  with  a  soft  puff,  and  expire  in  a  shower 
of  brilliant  sparks.  Then  it  was  all  over.  The  band  played 
"Wilhelmus  of  Nassau,"  and  the  dark  throng  surged  and 
pressed  more  vehemently,  while  on  all  sides  the  street-boys 
whistled  shrilly  and  shouted  to  one  another:  "J-a-a-a-n!" 
and  "Gerret!" 


4IO  THEOUEST 

Johannes,  stunned  by  renewed  pain,  passed  on  through  the 
cheering  Hke  one  deafened  and  stupefied. 

His  hostess,  now  full  of  sympathy,  said: 

"Do  you  remember,  Johannes,  what  we  promised  Father 
Canisius  ?  He  was  to  teach  you  who  Jesus  is,  was  he  not  ? 
Will  you  go  to  church  with  me  to-morrow  ?  That  will  best 
console  you." 

A  wicked  thought  passed  through  Johannes'  head.  He 
wished  to  ask  a  question,  but  he  could  not  utter  the  hated 
name. 

"Is  any  one  else  going?" 

"Yes,  the  man  to  whom  I  am  engaged.  He  also  is  now 
convinced  that  peace  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  Holy  Church. 
He  is  Catholic,  as  are  myself  and  my  children." 

Johannes  said  not  another  word  that  evening;  but  he 
slept  more  peacefully  than  the  night  before. 


XV 

The  church  was  full  when  Johannes,  with  the  entire  family, 
entered  it.  He  and  the  others  were  in  their  best  attire,  and 
Van  Lieverlee  had  on  a  very  long  black  coat  and  a  high  hat. 
As  he  passed  in  he  removed  his  hat  respectfully,  and  his 
white  face,  now  smoothly  shaven,  wore  a  serious,  even  stern, 
expression. 

It  was  cool  and  dark  and  solemn  in  the  building.  The  rays 
of  the  sun,  in  passing  through  the  window-glass,  were  tinged 
with  yellow  and  blue,  and  cast  queer  fleckings  over  the  faces 
and  forms  of  those  who  stood  waiting  or  were  securing  seats. 
The  fragrance  of  incense  floated  about  the  altar,  and  the  organ 
was  playing.  It  was  not  really  an  old  church,  but,  with  its 
paintings  and  floral  adornments,  was  beautiful  enough  to 
move  Johannes  to  tenderness;  for  he  felt  so  sad  and  dis- 
heartened, listening  to  the  solemn  music  in  that  richly-colored 
twilight,  that  he  had  to  make  an  effort  to  keep  from  sobbing. 

Father  Canisius,  smiling  kindly,  and  with  priestly  serious- 
ness in  face  and  tread,  although  not  yet  in  his  robes,  stopped 
on  his  way  to  the  sacristy  to  speak  with  them.  Johannes 
could  feel  his  sharp,  penetrating  look  through  the  thick  glasses 
of  his  spectacles. 

"You  see.  Father,"  said  the  countess,  "we  have  come  to 
seek  Jesus.     Johannes,  also." 

"He  is  waiting  for  you,"  replied  the  priest,  solemnly,  point- 
ing out  the  great  crucifix  above  the  altar.  Then  he  disap- 
peared in  the  sacristy. 

Johannes  immediately  fastened  his  eyes  upon  that  figure, 
and  continued  to  contemplate  it  while  the  people  were  taking 
their  places. 

It  hung  in  the  strongest  light  of  the  shadowy  church.  Ap- 
parently it  was  of  wood  stained  a  pale  rose,  with  peculiar  blue 
and  brown  shadows.     The  wounds  in  the  side  and  under  the 

411 


412  THEOUEST 

thorns  on  the  forehead  were  distinct  to  exaggeration  —  all 
purple  and  swollen,  with  great  streaks  of  blood  like  dark-red 
sealing-wax.  The  face,  with  its  closed  eyes,  wore  a  look  of 
distress,  and  a  large  circle  of  gold  and  precious  stones  wag- 
gishly adorned  the  usual  russet-colored,  cork-screwy,  woodeny 
locks.  The  cross  itself  was  of  shining  gold,  and  each  of  its 
four  extremities  was  ornamented,  while  a  nice,  wavy  paper 
above  the  head  bore  the  letters  I.  N.  R.  I.  One  could  see  that 
it  was  all  brand-new,  and  freshly  gilded  and  painted.  Wreaths 
and  bouquets  of  paper  flowers  embellished  the  altar. 

For  a  long  time  —  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  —  Johannes 
continued  to  look  at  the  image.  "That  is  Jesus,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  "He  of  whom  I  have  so  often  heard.  Now 
I  am  going  to  learn  about  Him,  and  He  is  to  comfort  me.  He 
it  is  who  has  redeemed  the  world." 

And  however  often  he  might  repeat  this,  trying  seriously 
to  convince  himself —  because  he  would  have  been  glad  to  be 
convinced  and  also  to  be  redeemed  —  he  could  nevertheless 
see  nothing  except  a  repulsive,  ugly,  bloody,  prinked-up 
wooden  doll.  And  this  made  him  feel  doubly  sorrowful  and 
disheartened.  Fully  fifteen  minutes  had  he  sat  there,  looking 
and  musing,  hearing  the  people  around  him  chatting  —  about 
the  price  they  had  paid  for  their  places,  about  the  keeping  on 
or  taking  off  of  women's  hats,  and  about  the  reserved  seats  for 
the  first  families.  Then  the  door  of  the  sacristy  opened,  and 
the  choir-boys  with  their  swinging  censers,  and  the  sacristan, 
and  the  priests  in  their  beautiful,  gold-bordered  garments, 
came  slowly  and  majestically  in.  And  as  the  congregation 
kneeled,  Johannes  kneeled  with  them. 

And  when  Johannes,  as  well  as  all  the  others,  looked  at  the 
incoming  procession,  and  then  again  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
high  altar,  behold!  there,  to  his  amazement,  kneeling  be- 
fore the  white  altar,  he  saw  a  dark  form.  It  was  in  plain  sight, 
bending  forward  in  the  twilight,  the  arms  upon  the  altar,  and 
the  face  hidden  in  the  arms.  A  man  it  was,  in  the  customary 
dark  clothes  of  a  laborer.     No  one  —  neither  Johannes  nor 


THE    QUEST  413 

probably  any  one  else  in  the  church  —  had  seen  whence  he 
came.  But  he  was  now  in  the  full  sight  of  all,  and  one  could 
hear  whisperings  and  a  subdued  excitement  run  along  the 
rows  of  people  and  pass  on  to  the  rear,  like  a  gust  of  wind  over 
a  grain-field. 

As  soon  as  the  procession  of  choir-boys  and  priests  came 
within  sight  of  the  altar,  the  sacristan  stepped  hastily  out  of 
line  and  went  forward  to  the  stranger,  to  assure  him  that, 
possibly  from  too  deep  absorption  in  devotion,  or  from  lack  of 
familiarity  with  ecclesiastical  ceremony,  he  was  guilty  of 
intrusion. 

He  touched  the  man's  shoulder,  but  the  man  did  not  stir. 
In  the  breathless  stillness  that  followed,  while  every  one  ex- 
pectantly awaited  the  outcome,  a  deep,  heart-rending  sob  was 
heard. 

"A  penitent!"  "A  drunken  man!"  "A  convert!"  were 
some  of  the  whispered  comments  of  the  people. 

The  perplexed  sacristan  turned  round,  and  beckoned  Father 
Canisius,  who,  with  impressive  bearing,  stepped  up  in  his 
white,  gold-threaded  garb,  as  imposingly  as  a  full-sailed  frig- 
ate moves. 

"Your  place  is  not  here,"  said  the  priest,  in  his  deep  voice. 
He  spoke  kindly,  and  not  particularly  loudly.  "Go  to  the 
back  of  the  church." 

There  was  no  reply,  and  the  man  did  not  move;  yet,  in  the 
still  more  profound  silence,  his  weeping  was  so  audible  that 
many  people  shuddered. 

"Do  you  not  hear  me  ?"  said  the  priest,  raising  his  voice  a 
little,  and  speaking  with  some  impatience.  "It  is  well  that 
you  are  repentant,  but  only  the  consecrated  belong  here  — 
not  penitents." 

So  saying,  he  grasped  the  shoulder  of  the  stranger  with  his 
large,  strong  hand. 

Then,  slowly,  very  slowly,  the  kneeling  man  raised  his  head 
from  his  arms,  and  turned  his  face  toward  the  priest. 

What  followed,  perhaps  each  one  of  the  hundreds  of  wit- 


414  THEOUEST 

nesses  would  tell  differently;  and  of  those  who  heard  about 
it  later,  each  had  a  different  idea.  But  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
what  Johannes  saw  and  heard  —  heard  quite  as  clearly  as 
you  have  seen  and  heard  the  members  of  your  own  household, 
to-day. 

He  saw  his  Brother's  face,  pale  and  illumined,  as  if  his 
head  were  shone  upon  by  beams  of  clearest  sunlight.  And 
the  sadness  of  that  face  was  so  deep  and  unutterable,  so 
bitter  and  yet  so  gentle,  that  Johannes  felt  forced,  through 
pain,  to  press  both  hands  upon  his  heart,  and  to  set  his  teeth, 
while  he  gazed  with  wide,  tear-filled  eyes,  forgetting  everything 
save  that  shining  face  so  full  of  grief. 

For  a  time  it  was  as  still  as  death,  while  man  and  priest 
regarded  each  other.     At  last  the  man  spoke,  and  said: 

"Who  are  you,  and  in  whose  name  are  you  here.^" 

When  two  men  stand  thus,  face  to  face,  and  address  each 
other  with  all  earnestness  in  the  hearing  of  many  others,  one 
of  them  is  always  immediately  recognized  to  be  the  superior 
—  even  if  the  listeners  are  unable  to  gauge  the  force  of  the 
argument.  Every  one  feels  that  superiority,  although  later 
many  forget  or  deny  it.  If  that  dominance  is  not  very  great, 
it  arouses  spitefulness  and  fury;  but  if  it  is  indeed  great,  it 
brings,  betimes,  repose  and  submissiveness. 

In  this  case  the  ascendancy  was  so  great  that  the  priest  lost 
even  the  air  of  authority  and  assurance  with  which  he  had 
come  forward,  and  did  that  for  which,  later,  he  reproached 
himself — he  stopped  to  explain: 

"I  am  a  consecrated  priest  of  the  Triune  God,  and  I  speak 
in  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  —  our  Saviour  and 
Redeemer." 

There  ensued  a  long  silence,  and  Johannes  saw  nothing  but 
the  shining,  human  face  and  the  eyes,  which,  full  of  sorrow 
and  compassion,  continued  to  regard  the  richly  robed  priest 
with  a  bitter  smile.  The  priest  stood  motionless,  with  hang- 
ing hands  and  staring  eyes,  as  if  uncertain  what  next  to  say 
or  do;   but  he  listened  silently  for  what  was  coming,  as  did 


THEQUEST  415 

Johannes  and  all  the  others  in  the  church  —  as  if  under  an 
overpowering  spell. 

Then  came  the  following  words,  and  so  long  as  they  sounded 
no  one  could  think  of  anything  else  —  neither  of  the  humble 
garb  of  him  who  spoke,  nor  of  the  incomprehensible  subjec- 
tion of  his  gorgeously  arrayed  listener: 

"  But  you  are  not  yet  a  man!  Would  you  be  a  priest  of  the 
Most  High  ? 

"You  are  not  yet  redeemed,  nor  are  these  others  with  you* 
redeemed,  although  you  make  bold  to  say  so  in  the  name  of 
the  Redeemer. 

"Did  your  Saviour  when  upon  earth  wear  cloth  of  silver 
and  of  gold  ? 

"There  is  no  redemption  yet  —  neither  for  you  nor  for  any 
of  yours.  The  time  is  not  come  for  the  wearing  of  garments 
of  gold. 

"Mock  not,  nor  slander.  Your  ostentation  is  a  travesty  of 
the  Most  High,  and  a  defamation  of  your  Saviour. 

"Do  you  esteem  the  kingdom  of  God  a  trifle,  that  you  array 
yourself  and  rejoice,  while  the  world  still  lies  in  despair  and  in 
shackles  ? 

"So  plays  a  little  girl  with  a  doll,  and  calls  herself  a  mother. 
She  tosses  and  pets  and  prinks  her  little  one,  but  it  is  all 
wood  and  paint  and  bran.  And  the  real  mother  smiles  — 
she  who  knows  the  anguish  and  the  gladness. 

"But  you  abandon  the  naked,  living  child  for  the  bediz- 
ened doll.     And  the  mother  sheds  tears  of  blood. 

"Like  peacocks,  you  strut  through  your  marble  churches, 
glittering  in  tinsel;  but  you  let  the  kingdom  of  God  lie 
like  an  uncleansed  babe  upon  unclean  linen  —  naked  and 
languishing. 

"And  the  Devil  delights  in  your  churches,  your  masses,  and 
prayers  and  psalms  —  your  treasure  and  fine  linen;  for  the 
child  lies  naked  at  your  back  door,  with  the  dogs,  and  it 
wails  for  its  mother. 

"Weep  —  as  do  l\     Weep  bitter  tears  —  for  that  child  is 


4i6  THE    QUEST 

two  thousand  years  old.  And  still  it  lies,  unwashed  and  un- 
cherished. 

"Why  do  you  vaunt  your  consecration,  and  prate  of  your 
Redeemer  ?  Your  Holy  One  still  toils  beneath  His  grievous 
cross,  yet  all  your  splendid  churches  have  you  built  upon  that 
heavy  cross. 

"You  bear  the  mitre  of  Persians,  and  Egyptians,  and  the 
tabard  of  the  Jews.  And  you  also  make  use  of  the  scourge 
wherewith  the  Jews  did  scourge  Him. 

"They  bound  and  spat  upon  —  they  scourged  and  cruci- 
fied and  speared  Him;  but  for  two  thousand  years  you  have 
been  roasting  Him  before  a  slow  fire  —  before  the  fire  of  your 
lies  and  misrepresentations;  of  your  treachery  and  arrogance; 
of  your  cruelties  and  perversions;  of  your  pomp  and  oblations; 
of  your  transgressions,  and  of  your  attacks  upon  and  strivings 
against  the  God  who  is  Truth. 

"You  are  commanded  to  serve  your  Father  in  spirit  and  in 
truth,  and  you  have  served  Him  with  the  letter  and  with  lies. 

"His  prophets,  who  loved  the  truth  better  than  their  lives, 
you  have  burned  at  the  stake,  and  have  made  them  martyrs. 

"Yet  you  have  bent  your  proud  neck  to  the  world  which  you 
affect  to  despise.  In  the  name  of  the  Father  you  have  burned 
and  imprisoned  sages;  but  at  last  you  were  forced  to  eat  the 
bread  of  their  wisdom,  for  the  knife  of  the  scornful  was  at 
your  throat. 

"The  world  you  have  disdained  and  denounced  is  wiser 
than  you  —  more  beautiful  and  even  more  holy. 

"Black  as  the  raven  —  black  as  the  beetles,  the  moles,  the 
creatures  that  live  in  the  slime  —  black  and  vile,  you  burrow 
your  secret  way  through  the  clear,  bright  world.  But  in  your 
churches  you  enthrone  yourselves  and  parade  like  kings  —  in 
violet  and  yellow  and  purple,  and  gold  brocade. 

"You  were  not  commanded  to  found  a  kingdom  solely  for 
yourselves  —  a  kingdom  of  the  sacred  and  the  elect  in  a  world 
of  the  unholy  and  immature. 

"You  were  commanded  to  spread  abroad  the  kingdom  of 


THE    QUEST  417 

God  over  the  whole  earth  —  over  all  that  weep  and  are  op- 
pressed. 

"You  were  not  commanded  to  despise  the  world  and  to 
forsake  it,  but  you  were  commanded  to  hallow  the  world. 

"You  rend  the  world  in  twain,  speaking  of  the  sanctified 
and  the  unsanctified.  Your  Saviour  lived  among  thieves,  and 
died  between  murderers,  nevertheless  he  promised  them 
Paradise. 

"Not  until  every  man  is  sanctified,  until  every  day  is  a  holy 
day,  and  every  house  a  House  of  God  —  not  until  then  may 
you  speak  of  redemption,  and  array  yourself  in  white  and 
gold. 

"Woe  unto  you,  forsakers  of  the  world!  Was  not  the  world 
bestowed  upon  you  by  the  Father  as  the  noblest  and  most 
precious  gift  of  the  dearest  of  friends  ^ 

"How  dare  you  despise  it? 

"Will  you  openly  preserve  the  penny  of  your  enemy,  and 
reject  the  noblest  gift  of  the  Most  High  ? 

"Do  you  speak  in  the  name  of  the  Triune  God  ?  But  you 
have  smitten  the  Father's  face  —  you  have  martyred  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  have  you  violated. 

"You  have  been  told  that  God  is  Truth.  Yet  you  have 
striven  against  the  truth  with  torture-tongs,  with  dungeons, 
and  with  burnings  at  the  stake. 

"You  have  made  the  Son  of  man  an  object  of  ridicule  —  a 
shield  for  lying  and  violence,  a  pretext  for  strife  and  bloodshed, 
a  monstrous  idol. 

"And  of  all  sins,  the  worst  is  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
—  which  is  the  bread  that  you  eat,  and  the  water  wherein  you 
swim. 

"You  shackle  and  restrain  the  Spirit.  This  is  of  all  sins 
the  worst,  and  this  you  know. 

"Where  God  alone  may  reign  —  in  the  free  human  heart  — 
there  you  establish  yourselves  with  your  laws  and  dogmas, 
your  writings  and  your  imageries. 

"Think   you,   madman,   that    the   wisdom  of    the   Eternal 


4i8  THEOUEST 

can  he  comprised  within  the  Hmits  of  written  or  printed 
pages  ? 

"To  Him  your  sacred  books  are  as  cobwebs  and  sweepings; 
for  He  Hves  and  moves  eternally,  and  book  nor  brain  can 
compass  Him.  Like  to  flowing  water,  you  are  told,  is  the 
wisdom  of  God.  Forever  changing,  forever  the  same,  no 
finite  word  can  picture  His  progressive  wisdom. 

"There  is  more  of  the  Father's  wisdom  in  the  shy,  faltering 
whisper  of  a  poor  heathen  child,  than  in  all  your  bulls  and 
councils  and  decretals. 

"Would  you  put  a  tube  to  the  lips  of  the  Father,  that  He 
may  speak  at  your  pleasure  ?  Yet  will  He  speak  as  seems 
best  to  Himself. 

"Would  you  point  with  the  finger  and  say  to  Him:  'Here! 
These  shall  speak  in  thy  name,  and  to  these  shalt  thou  give 
wisdom,  and  these  shalt  thou  inspire  with  understanding, 
and  these  shalt  thou  save,  and  these  condemn!' 

"But  He  will  reply:  'There!'  and  will  regard  your  point- 
ings even  as  the  lava  of  a  volcano  regards  the  guide-posts  and 
little  crosses  on  the  slopes. 

"  But  your  opinions  and  your  pride  are  avenged,  for  the 
world  commands  you  as  the  hunter  his  hound,  as  the  show- 
man his  monkey.  You  pull  the  carriage  of  prince  and  mon- 
ied  man,  and  make  grimaces  before  the  powerful. 

"They  build  you  churches,  and  you  say  masses  for  them, 
although  they  be  Satan  himself. 

"The  world  is  sanctified  without  you,  and  you  sanctify 
yourselves  because  of  the  world. 

"That  your  Popes  are  not  more  dissolute,  your  prelates 
more  prodigal,  and  your  friars  more  slothful,  is  because  the 
world  has  constrained  you.  But  you  have  constrained  the 
world  to  no  purpose. 

"You  have  set  yourself  against  the  usurer,  but  the  world 
will  practise  usury,  and  you  practise  usury  with  the  world. 
Thus  are  you  the  ape  and  the  servant  of  the  world. 

"Where  you  have  rivals,  you  show  yourself  discreet;   but 


THE    QUEST 


419 


where  you  are  without  competitors,  there  as  ever  you  corrupt 
the  land. 

"You  follow  after  the  world,  as  a  captive  shark  follows  a 
sailing  ship.  You  turn  and  twist,  but  the  world  points  out 
the  way  —  not  yon. 

"Like  a  kettle  tied  by  mischievous  boys  to  the  tail  of  a  dog, 
so  do  you  rattle  with  hollow  menaces  behind  the  course  of  the 
world.     You  scare,  but  do  not  guide. 

"Yes,  you  strive  against  the  sanctifying  of  the  world,  foi 
with  your  hands  you  would  conceal  the  godlike  fire  of 
knowledge;  but  the  flame  bursts  through  your  fingers,  and 
consumes  you. 

"What  have  you  done  for  the  sheep  committed  to  your  care 
—  for  the  poor  and  bereaved  —  for  the  oppressed  and  the 
disinherited  ? 

"Submission  you  have  taught  them  —  ay  —  submission  to 
Mammon.     You  have  taught  them  to  bow  meekly  to  Satan. 

"God's  light  —  the  light  of  knowledge  —  you  have  with- 
held from  them.     Woe  be  to  you! 

"You  have  taught  them  to  beg,  and  to  kiss  the  rod  that 
smote  them.  You  have  cloaked  the  shame  of  alms-receiving, 
and  have  prated  of  honor  in  servitude. 

"Thus  have  you  humbled  man,  and  disfigured  the  human 
soul. 

"With  the  fruit  of  their  hands  you  have  decorated  your 
churches  and  adorned  your  unworthy  bodies. 

"You  have  aroused  the  devil  in  the  heart  —  the  devil  of 
fear  —  fear  of  hell  and  everlasting  punishment.  The  aspira- 
tion of  the  free  heart  toward  God  you  have  deadened;  and 
with  indulgences  and  the  confessional  have  you  lulled  the 
waking  conscience. 

"Of  the  love  of  the  Father  you  have  made  commerce  —  a 
sinful  merchandise.  Not  because  you  love  virtue  do  you 
preach  it,  but  because  of  the  sweet  profit.  You  promise  de- 
liverance to  all  who  follow  your  counsel;  but  as  well  can  you 
make  a  present  of  moon  and  stars. 


420  T  H  E    O  U  E  S  T 

"Are  you  not  told  to  recompense  evil  with  good?  And  is 
God  less  than  man  that  He  should  do  otherwise  ? 

"It  is  well  for  you  that  He  does  not  do  otherwise,  for  where 
then  were  your  salvation  ? 

"For  you,  and  you  only,  are  the  brood  of  vipers  against 
whom  is  kindled  the  wrath  of  Him  who  was  gentle  with  adul- 
terers and  murderers." 

While  speaking,  the  man  had  risen  to  his  full  height, 
and  he  now  appeared,  to  all  there  assembled,  impressively 
tall. 

When  he  had  spoken,  reaching  his  right  hand  backward  he 
grasped  the  foot  of  the  great  golden  crucifix.  It  snapped  off 
like  glass,  and  he  threw  it  on  the  marble  floor  at  the  feet  of  the 
priest.  The  fragment  broke  into  many  bits.  It  was  appar- 
ently not  wood,  but  plaster. 

"Sacrilege!"  cried  the  priest,  in  a  stifled  voice,  as  if  the 
sound  were  wrung  from  his  throat.  His  eyes  seemed  to  be 
starting  out  of  his  great  purple  face. 

The  man  quietly  replied: 

"No,  but  my  right;  for  you  are  the  sacrilegist  and  the 
blasphemer  who  makes  of  the  Son  of  man  a  hideous 
caricature." 

Then  the  priest  stepped  forward,  and  gripped  Markus  by 
the  wrist.  The  latter  made  no  resistance,  but  cried  in  a  loud 
voice  that  reverberated  through  the  church: 

"Do  your  work,  Caiaphas!" 

After  that  he  suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  to  the  sacristy. 

While  the  congregation  still  sat,  spellbound  and  motion- 
less, Johannes  hastily  writhed  his  way  out  between  the  benches 
and  the  throngs  of  people. 

Father  Canisius  returned,  now  quite  calm  and  far  less  red. 
And  while  the  sacristan  with  broom  and  dust-pan  swept  up 
the  fragments  and  put  them  into  a  basket,  the  priest  turned 
toward  the  audience  and  said; 


THE    QUEST  421 

"Have  sympathy  with  the  poor  maniac.     We  will  pray  for 
him." 


After  that,  the  service  proceeded  without  further  disturb- 
ance. 


XVI 

In.  a  dreary  district  of  the  city,  at  the  end  of  a  long,  lonely 
street,  stands  a  long,  gloomy  building.  The  windows  —  all 
of  the  same  form  —  are  of  ground  glass,  and  the  house  itself 
is  lengthened  by  a  high  wall.  What  lies  behind  this  wall  the 
neighbors  do  not  know;  but  sometimes  strange  noises  are  borne 
over  it  —  loud  singing,  yelling,  dismal  laughter,  and  monoto- 
nous mutterings. 

On  the  steps  of  this  house,  silent,  and  with  earnest  faces, 
stood  Johannes  and  Marjon.  The  latter  had  on  a  simple, 
dark  gown,  and  she  carried  Keesje  on  her  arm. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  porter  wearing  a  uniform-cap. 
The  man  gave  them,  especially  the  monkey,  a  critical,  hesi- 
tating look. 

"That  will  not  do,"  said  he,  drily.  "You  must  leave 
your  little  ones  at  home  when  you  come  here  to  make 
visits." 

"Come,"  said  Marjon,  without  a  smile  at  his  jest,  "ask  the 
superintendent.  My  brother  is  so  fond  of  him,  and  I  do  not 
dare  leave  him  at  home." 

•  They  had  to  wait  awhile  in  the  vestibule.  At  first  they 
said  not  a  word,  and  Keesje  was  very  still. 

Then,  scratching  Keesje's  head,  Johannes  quietly  remarked, 
"He  has  grown  thin." 

"He  has  a  cough,"  said  Marjon. 

At  length  the  doorkeeper  came  back,  with  the  superintend- 
ent. Johannes  instantly  recognized  in  the  tall,  spare  gentle- 
man, the  slovenly  black  suit,  the  gold  spectacles,  and  the 
bushy  white  hair,  his  old  friend  Dr.  Cijfer. 

"Whom  have  they  come  to  see  ?"  he  asked. 

"The  new  one  who  was  brought  in  yesterday  —  working- 
class,"  said  the  doorkeeper. 

"Violent?"  asked  the  doctor. 

422 


THE    QUEST  423 

"No,  quiet,  Doctor.  But  they  want  to  take  their  monkey 
with  them." 

"Why  so,  young  people  ?"  asked  Dr.  Cijfer,  frowning  at  the 
monkey  over  the  top  of  his  spectacles  in  a  most  objectionable 
manner,  to  the  discomfiture  of  Keesje. 

"Doctor  Cijfer,  have  you  forgotten  me  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Wait,"  said  the  doctor,  giving  him  a  sharp  look,  "are  you 
the  boy  who  assisted  me  some  time  ago,  and  then  ran  away  ? 
Your  name,  indeed,  was  Johannes,  was  it  not.?" 

"Yes,  Doctor." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  the  doctor,  reflecting.  "A  rather  queer 
boy,  with  some  talent.  And  there  is  a  brother  of  yours  here  ? 
I  always  thought  there  were  hereditary  moments  in  your  fam- 
ily.    You  were  a  queer  boy." 

"But  it  can't  do  any  harm  if  our  monkey  goes  with  us, 
Doctor,"  said  Marjon.     "He  is  quite  still  and  obedient." 

Slowly  shaking  his  head,  the  doctor  made  a  prolonged 
"  m-m-m  "  with  his  compressed  lips,  as  if  to  say  that  he  did  not 
himself  think  it  so  hazardous. 

"I  have  not  yet  seen  the  patient.  We  will  ask  the  junior 
physician  if  he  may  receive  callers.  But  only  ten  minutes  — - 
not  longer,  mind." 

Dr.  Cijfer  vanished  with  the  doorkeeper,  and  again  the 
trio  waited  a  considerable  time. 

Then  the  doorkeeper  returned  with  a  man-nurse  in  white 
jacket  and  apron.  The  latter  led  them  down  long  halls, 
three  times  unlocking  different  doors  and  gratings  with  the 
key  that  he  carried  in  his  hand,  until  it  seemed  to  Johannes  as 
if  they  were  pressing  deeper  and  deeper  into  realms  of 
error  and  constraint. 

But  it  was  still  there —  sadly  still  —  not,  as  Johannes  had 
expected  it  to  be,  noisy  with  ravings.  Now  and  then  a  patient 
in  a  dark  blue  uniform  came  toward  them,  carrying  a  pail  or  a 
basket.  He  would  look  back  at  them  suspiciously,  and  then 
go  farther  on,  softly  muttering. 

At  last  they  came  to  a  dismal  reception-room  with  a  little 


424  THEQUEST 

wooden  table  and  four  rush-seated  chairs.  It  was  Hghted 
from  above,  and  there  was  no  outlook.  There  they  were  left 
by  themselves  in  painful  suspense. 

After  what  again  seemed  to  be  a  very  long  time  a  different 
door  of  the  same  little  room  was  opened  by  another  nurse  ; 
and  then,  at  last,  Little  Johannes  could  rest  again  on  the 
bosom  of  his  beloved  brother. 

But  even  before  Johannes  could  reach  him,  Keesje  had 
sprung  to  his  shoulder  and  received  the  first  greeting. 

"Hey,  Markus,  do  you  greet  Kees  before  you  do  us?" 
said  Marjon,  laughing  through  her  tears. 

"Are  you  jealous  ?"  asked  Markus.  "He  has  become  such 
a  good  comrade  of  mine.  " 

Drawing  Keesje  up  to  him,  he  sat  down,  while  Johannes  and 
Marjon  kneeled,  one  on  each  side.  The  two  young  people 
regarded  him  a  long  while  without  saying  anything;  yet  it  did 
them  good. 

"Only  ten  minutes,"  sighed  Johannes,  "and  I  have  so 
much  to  ask  and  to  say." 

"Do  not  be  uneasy,"  said  Markus.     "I  shall  not  be  here 

long." 

"Is  it  not  frightful  here  ?"  asked  Marjon. 

"It  is  the  most  sorrowful  place  on  earth.  But  it  is  without 
deceit;  and  I  am  happy  here,  for  I  can  do  much  to  comfort." 

"  But  it  is  fearfully  unjust  to  put  you  here,  with  crazy  folks," 
said  Marjon.  "Those  miserable  creatures!"  and  she  clenched 
her  slender  little  hand. 

"It  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  great  wrong.  They  act 
according  to  their  understanding." 

"Markus,"  said  Johannes,  "I  want  to  ask  you  this:  I 
saw  poor  Helene  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Evil  One.  Do  you 
know  whom  I  mean  ?  You  do  ?  What  does  that  signify  .'' 
And  will  she  be  saved  ?" 

"I  know  whom  you  mean,  Johannes;  but  do  not  forget  that 
we  are  all  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Evil  One.  Only  in  the  heart 
of  the  Father  are  we  free.     The  Father  allows  Waan  to  have 


THEQUEST  425 

power  over  all  who  are  away  from  Him  —  even  over 
me." 

"  But  not  for  ever,  Marlcus." 

"  How  can  that  which  is  evil  avail  for  ever?  The  melan- 
choly seem  to  be  the  chosen  ones.  The  burden  they  bear  is  a 
precious  one,  but  only  if  they  realize  that  it  is  of  the  Father. 
Then  it  sanctifies;  otherwise  it  crushes.  Some  learn  this 
first  through  death,  as  did  Helene." 

"Markus,"  said  Marjon  then,  "we  both  have  had  such 
wicked  things  in  our  heads.    Shall  we  ever  be  forgiven  them  V 

"Tell  me  about  them,"  said  Markus.  "I  know  indeed, 
but  yet  tell  me." 

"We  have  wanted  to  murder,  out  of  jealousy  —  he  and 
.    .    .    and  I." 

"That  is  the  way  with  stags  and  buffaloes  and  cocks,"  said 
Markus.  "They  kill  one  another  on  account  of  their  love. 
The  strongest  survives,  and  feels  not  the  least  remorse.  And 
he  is  forgiven. " 

"But  we  are  human,  Markus,"  said  JoKannes. 

"That  is  fine,  dear  Johannes,  that  you  should  say  it  of  your- 
self.    And  yet  you  have  not  murdered  anybody,  have  you.?" 

"No,  but  I  have  wanted  to." 

"Truly  and  with  all  your  heart?" 

"Not  that  way,"  said  Johannes. 

"No,  for  in  that  case  you  would  not  now  be  asking  forgive- 
ness. Forgiveness  is  already  there,  because  insight  is  forgive- 
ness." 

The  two  disciples  were  silent,  and  looked  at  him  thought- 
fully through  half-closed  eyes.     At  last  Marjon  said: 

"  But  then  if  we  had  done  it  we  would  have  been  forgiven 
all  the  sooner;  for  then  we  should  have  perceived  the  sooner 
that  it  was  wrong." 

"You  would  then  have  experienced  the  desire  for,  and  the 
satisfaction  in,  the  deed,  and  have  lost  the  fear  of  it.  That 
would  have  been  two  more  fetters  for  you,  with  the  power  to 
understand  reduced." 


426  THEOUEST 

"But  yet  there  are  things  which  we  have  to  do  in  order  to 
know  that  they  are  wicked,"  said  Johannes. 

"Are  there  such  things?"  asked  Markus.  "Well,  then,  do 
them;  but  do  not  complain  if  the  lesson  is  a  hard  one.  There 
are  children,  also,  who  do  not  believe  their  parents  when  they 
tell  them  that  fire  will  burn,  and  that  burns  are  painful.  And 
yet  such  children  cry  if  they  burn  themselves." 

"But  why  is  it  so  intolerable  to  think  that  another  will 
obtain  that  which  we  hold  dear?  Is  that  wicked?"  asked 
Marjon. 

"  It  is  not  wicked  to  long  for  love  or  power  or  honor,  when 
those  things  are  our  due  because  of  our  being  wise  and  good. 
But  that  which  he  covets  comes  not  to  the  jealous  one,  nor 
power  to  him  who  thirsts  for  it,  nor  honor  to  the  over-ambitious. 
The  things  longed  for  will  not  satisfy  them.  Nor  are  eating 
and  drinking  bad  in  themselves,  but  they  are  only  for  those 
who  have  need  of  them." 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  unlocked.  As  it  swung  open 
the  nurse  said  that  the  time  was  up,  adding: 

"  Perhaps  you  may  come  again  to-morrow." 

"Will  he  have  to  stay  here?"  asked  Marjon,  as  they  were 
on  their  way  down  the  long  hall. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  nurse,  "  they  may  indeed  shut  up 
quite  a  lot  more.  He  can  deal  with  the  violent  ones  bet- 
ter than  the  professor  can.  There  was  one  here  who  gave 
us  a  lot  of  trouble,  because  he  wouldn't  eat.  He'd  thrown 
his  plate  at  me  head.  Look  here!  What  a  cut!  But  your 
brother  had  him  eating  inside  often  minutes." 

"Will  he  soon  be  free?"  asked  Johannes. 

"They  ought  to  make  him  a  professor,"  was  the  reply. 
"I've  heard  they're  to  examine  him  to-morrow." 

Little  was  said  while  Johannes  was  accompanying  Marjon 
to  the  boarding-house  in  which  she  now  lived.  It  was  kept 
by  one  of  Markus's  friends,  a  workman  in  the  iron  foundry. 
The  man  was  called  Jan  van  Tijn,  and  was  foreman  of  the 


THEQUEST  427 

hammer-works.  He  earned  sixteen  guldens  a  week,  and  had 
nine  children.  His  dwelling  had  three  small  rooms  and  a 
kitchen,  and  there  twelve  persons  had  to  sleep  —  father, 
mother,  nine  children,  and  the  boarder.  But  JufFrouw  van 
Tijn  was  still  young,  with  a  fresh  face  and  a  pair  of  strong 
arms,  and  she  made  light  of  her  work. 

"  If  there  are  to  be  still  more  of  us,"  said  Jan,  "  we  must 
begin  to  lie  in  a  row  —  spoon-fashion." 

Jan  had  a  long  blonde  moustache  and  a  pair  of  shrewd 
eyes,  and  his  manner  of  speech  was  coarse  —  terribly  so. 
Marjon  slept  in  the  little  kitchen,  and,  as  Jan's  eldest  girl  was 
not  yet  sixteen,  Marjon  could  be  of  great  service  in  the  family. 

"Did  you  get  him  out?"  asked  Jan,  who  had  come  in  his 
working-blouse  to  meet  them.  And  when  they  shook  their 
heads,  he  began  cursing,  tremendously. 

"Well !     Did  ye  ever  see  such  scoundrels?     I'd  like 

to  pitch  into  the  loons!  Can't  that  perfesser  see  that  Markus 
knows  more  in  his  little  finger  than  the  whole  scurvy  lot  of 
them  —  patients,  doctors,  perfessers,  and  all  ?  And  because 
he's  given  the  priest  a  dressing-down,  and  broken  an  image 
worth  a  nickel,  must  he  be  shut  up  in  a  mad-house  ? 
Well !  !  !" 

Jan  was  furious,  and  proposed,  with  the  aid  of  a  sledge- 
hammer, to  convince  the  learned  gentlemen  that  they  had 
made  a  blunder. 

"He  is  to  be  examined  to-morrow,"  said  Johannes,  thinking 
to    calm    him. 

But  Jan  retorted  scornfully,  "Examined!  Examined! 
I'll  examine  their  own  cocoanuts  with  a  three-inch  gimlet! 
If  anything  comes  out  but  sawdust  I  hope  to  drop  dead." 

He  said  much  more  that  I  will  not  repeat. 

Johannes  stayed  away  from  the  Villa  Dolores  the  entire 
day,  for  it  was  too  dreary  for  him  there.  He  would  now  far 
rather  be  in  this  poor  household  with  its  many  children.  He 
noticed  how  the  young  mother  managed  her  uproarious  little 
troop,  how  constantly  and  cheerfully  busy  she  was  the  whole 


428  THEQUEST 

day  long  —  bearing,  and  getting  the  better  of,  difficulties  which 
would  have  dismayed  and  discouraged  many  another. 

Johannes  ate  with  them,  and  although  not  very  hungry, 
because  of  his  anxiety,  he  enjoyed  his  food.  And  after  they 
had  had  their  late  afternoon  coffee,  and  the  younger  children 
had  gone  to  bed  —  when  Van  Tijn  had  returned  from  his 
work,  and  with  a  certain  solemn  thoughtfulness  had  filled  his 
pipe  and  was  silently  smoking  it  —  then  Johannes  felt  won- 
derfully at  peace.  He  had  not  known  such  peace  in  a  long 
time.  Very  little  was  said.  Outside,  the  twilight  was  fall- 
ing; indoors,  the  only  light  was  from  the  little  flame  under  the 
coffee-pot.  The  women,  too,  were  tired,  and  sat  listening  to 
the  sounds  in  the  street.  And  Johannes  knew  that  they  were 
all  thinking  of  the  friend  in  the  asylum. 

That  evening,  when  he  was  again  in  the  handsome,  luxurious 
villa,  everything  seemed  strange  and  distasteful.  In  the 
brightly  lighted  drawing-room,  chatting  in  a  low  tone,  Van 
Lieverlee  sat  close  beside  the  lady  of  the  house,  with  an  intol- 
erable air  of  being  the  rightful  lord  of  the  manor.  Johannes 
merely  wanted  to  bid  them  good-night. 

"Have  you  found  your  poor  friend  V  asked  Van  Lieverlee, 
in  his  most  condescending  manner. 

"Yes,  Mijnheer,"  replied  Johannes.  And  then,  after 
some  hesitation:  "Can  anything  be  done  to  get  him  out 
promptly  ?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  "it  is  not  to  be  desired, 
either  for  his  own  sake  or  that  of  society.  I  am  not  a  doctor, 
but  that  he  belongs  where  he  is  I  can  see  at  once,  as  could  any 
layman.     What  do  you  think.  Dearest?" 

Dolores  nodded  languidly,  and  said:  "My  heart  was 
touched  for  the  man  —  he  has  a  fine  face.  And  have  you 
noticed,  Walter,  what  a  splendid  baritone  voice  he  has?" 

"Yes,"  said  Van  Lieverlee;  "it  is  a  pity  he  is  out  of  his  head. 
What  a  good  singer  of  Wagner  he  might  be!  An  excellent 
Parsifal!     Do  you  not  think  so,  Dolores?" 


THE    QUEST  429 

"A  splendid  Parsifal!  Perhaps  he  may  get  well  yet," 
added  the  countess. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Van  Lieverlee.  "That  sort  of  prophet- 
frenzy  is  incurable.     I  know  indeed  of  so  many  cases." 

For  an  instant  Johannes  stood  hesitating.  Should  he  give 
vent  to  what  was  boiling  in  his  breast  ^ 

But  he  was  older  now,  and  he  curbed  himself.  Before  he 
went  to  sleep  he  resolved:  "This  is  my  last  night  here." 


XVII 

Again  they  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  gloomy  building  —  the 
three — Johannes,  Marjon,  and  Keesje.  It  was  a  bleak  day, 
and  Keesje's  thin  little  black  face  peeped  out  from  under  a 
thick  shawl. 

"Just  go  into  the  doctor's  room,  will  you?"  said  the  door- 
keeper. "  The  doctor  wishes  to  speak  with  you.  The  pro- 
fessor is  there,  also,"  he  added,  importantly.  And  when 
Marjon  would  have  gone  with  them,  he  extended  his  hand  as 
if  to  stay  her,  saying,  "Pardon,  but  the  lady  and  the  little 
one  weren't  invited." 

Without  replying,  Marjon  turned  round  to  Johannes  and 
said,  "Then  I'll  wait  for  you  at  the  house.  Will  you  come 
soon  f 

In  the  tiresome,  pompous  quarters  of  the  doctor,  with 
its  bookcases  draped  in  green,  its  white  gypsum  busts  of 
Galenus,  Hippocrates,  and  other  old  physicians,  sat  two  dark- 
coated  gentlemen.  They  were  vis-a-vis,  each  in  an  office- 
chair,  and  deep  in  conversation. 

On  the  large  writing-table  lay  several  open  books,  and 
some  shining  white  metal  instruments  for  measuring  and 
examining. 

"Sit  down,  my  friend,"  said  Professor  Bommeldoos,  in  his 
loud  voice  and  brusque  manner.  "We  all  know  one  another, 
do  we  not  ?  We  have  already  made  an  examination  to- 
gether." 

Johannes  silently  took  a  seat. 

"Let  me  explain  to  you,  Johannes,"  said  Dr.  Cijfer,  in  more 
soft  and  moderate  tones.  "We — Professor  Bommeldoos  and 
I  —  have  been  charged  by  the  judicial  commission  to  make  a 
medical  investigation  of  the  mental  condition  of  your  brother. 
He  has  committed  a  crime  —  not  a  heavy  one,  but  yet  not  with- 

430 


THEQUEST  431 

out  significance,  and  one  for  which  he  ought  to  have  been 
placed  under  arrest.  Yet  the  clergyman  thought  him  irre- 
sponsible, and  summoned  a  physician  from  the  asylum. 
Your  brother  simply  would  not  reply  to  the  latter.  He  was 
stubbornly  silent." 

Johannes  nodded.     He  knew  it  already. 

"That  was  the  reason  for  his  being  temporarily  secluded 
here.  Now  I  have  seen  the  patient  myself  once,  but  I  am 
sorry  to  have  to  say  that  I  can  get  no  further  than  the  other 
physician.  When  I  interrogate  him  he  looks  at  me  in  a  very 
peculiar  way,  and  remains  silent." 

"I  do  not  understand,  Colleague,"  said  Bommeldoos, 
"why  you  did  not  instantly  diagnose  this  as  a  symptom  of 
megalomania." 

"But,  worthy  Colleague,"  replied  Dr.  Cijfer,  "he  does  talk 
with  the  nurses  and  his  fellow  patients,  and  he  is  obliging  and 
ready  to  help.  They  all  wish  him  well  —  yes,  they  are  even 
singularly  fond  of  him." 

"All  of  which  comports  very  well  with  my  diagnosis,"  said 
Bommeldoos. 

"Does  he  often  have  those  whims,  Johannes,"  asked  Dr. 
Cijfer,  "when  he  will  not  speak  ?" 

"He  has  no  whims,"  said  Johannes,  stoutly. 

"Why,  then,  will  he  not  reply  ?" 

"I  think  you  would  not  answer  me,"  returned  Johannes, 
"if  I  were  to  ask  you  if  you  were  mad." 

The  two  learned  men  exchanged  smiles. 

"That  is  a  somewhat  different  situation,"  said  Bommel- 
doos, haughtily. 

"He  was  not  questioned  in  such  a  blunt  manner  as  that," 
explained  Doctor  Cijfer.  "I  asked  about  his  extraction,  his 
age,  the  health  of  his  father  and  mother,  about  his  own  youth, 
and  so  forth  —  the  usual  memory  promptings.  Will  you  not 
give  us  some  further  information  concerning  him  ?  Remem- 
ber, it  is  of  real  importance  to  your  brother." 

"Mijnheer,"  said  Johannes,  "I  know  as  little  as  yourself 


432  THEOUEST 

about  all  that.  And  even  if  I  knew  more  I  would  not  tell  you 
what  he  himself  thought  best  not  to  tell." 

"Come,  come,  my  boy,"  said  the  professor,  "are  you  try- 
ing to  make  sport  of  us  .■*  Do  you  not  know  whence  you 
came  ?     Nothing  of  your  parents,  nor  of  your  youth  .''" 

Johannes  hesitatingly  considered  whether  or  not  he 
should  do  as  Markus  had  done,  and  answer  no  questions 
whatever.  But  still  he  might  reply  to  those  that  concerned 
only  himself. 

"I  do,  indeed,  know  all  that  about  myself,  but  not  about 
him,"  said  he. 

"Then  you  are  not  brothers?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"No,  not  in  the  sense  you  mean." 

Dr.  Cijfer  looked  at  Bommeldoos  as  if  to  see  what  bethought 
of  this  reply.     Then  he  touched  a  bell-button,  saying: 

"It  seems  to  me.  Colleague,  that  we  might  better  see  him 
face  to  face.  We  can  then,  perhaps,  get  on  better  than  when 
apart." 

Bommeldoos  nodded  solemnly,  and  passed  his  hand  over 
his  mighty  forehead.     A  servant  came  in. 

"Will  you  bring  the  patient  Vis  from  the  ward  of  the  calm 
patients,  working-class?" 

"Very  well.  Doctor." 

The  servant  vanished,  and  for  several  minutes  afterward  it 
was  as  still  as  death  in  the  study.  The  two  learned  men 
stared  at  the  carpet  quite  absorbed  in  thought  —  not  minding 
delay  —  after  the  manner  of  deep  thinkers.  Johannes  heard 
the  clock  ticking  on  the  mantel,  the  faint  music  from  an  out- 
of-doors  band  playing  a  merry  march,  the  sound  of  hurrahs, 
and  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  cobblestone  pavement. 
The  royal  wedding-festivities  were  still  in  progress,  and  Jo- 
hannes could  mentally  see  the  two  people  who  at  that  moment 
were  bowing  and  waving  as  they  sat  in  their  carriage.  There 
was  a  knock  at  the  door.  The  nurse  came  and  said,  "Here 
Is  the  patient."  Then  he  let  Markus  in,  remaining  himself 
to  look  on. 


THEQUEST  433 

"I  will  ring  for  you,"  said  Dr.  Cijfer,  with  a  gesture.  The 
nurse  disappeared. 

Markus  had  on  a  dark-blue  linen  blouse,  such  as  all  the 
patients  of  the  working-class  wear.  He  stood  tall  and  erect, 
and  Johannes  observed  that  his  face  was  less  pale  and  sad 
than  usual.  The  blue  became  his  dark  curling  hair,  and 
Johannes  felt  happy  and  confident  as  he  looked  at  him  — 
standing  there  so  proud  and  calm  and  handsome. 

"Take  a  seat,"  said  Dr.  Cijfer. 

But  Markus  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  and  remained  stand- 
ing, while  he  nodded  kindly  and  reassuringly  to  Johannes. 

"Observe  his  pride,"  said  Professor  Bommeldoos,  in  Latin, 
to  Dr.  Cijfer. 

"The  proud  find  pride,  and  the  gloomy,  gloom;  but  the 
glad  find  gladness,  and  the  lowly,  humility,"  said  Markus. 

Dr.  Cijfer  stood  up,  and  took  his  measuring  instrument 
from  the  table.     Then,  in  a  quiet,  courteous  tone,  he  said: 

"Will  you  not  permit  us,  Mijnheer,  to  take  your  head  meas- 
ure ?     It  is  for  a  scientific  purpose." 

"It  gives  no  pain,"  added  Bommeldoos. 

"Not  to  the  body,"  said  Markus. 

"There  is  nothing  in  it  to  offend  one,"  said  Dr.  Cijfer.  "I 
have  had  it  done  to  myself  many  a  time." 

"There  is  a  kind  of  opinionativeness  and  denseness  that 
offend." 

Bommeldoos  flushed.  "Opinionativeness  and  denseness! 
Mine,  perchance  ?  Am  I  such  an  ignoramus  ?  Opinion- 
ated and  stupid!" 

"Colleague!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Cijfer,  in  gentle  expostulation. 
And  then,  as  he  enclosed  Markus's  head  with  the  shining  crani- 
ometer,  he  gave  the  measurement  figures.  A  considerable 
time  passed,  nothing  being  heard  save  the  low  voice  of  the 
doctor  dictating  the  figures.  Then,  as  if  proceeding  with  his 
present  occupation,  taking  advantage  of  what  he  considered  a 
compliant  mood  of  the  patient,  the  crafty  doctor  fancied  he 
saw  his  opportunity,  and  said: 


434  THEQUEST 

"Your  parents  certainly  dwelt  in  another  country  —  one 
more  southerly  and  more  mountainous." 

But  Markus  removed  the  doctor's  hand,  with  the  instru- 
ment, from  his  head,  and  looked  at  him  piercingly. 

"Why  are  you  not  sincere?"  asked  he  then,  with  gentle 
stress.     "How  can  truth  be  found  through  untruth  ?" 

Dr.  Cijfer  hesitated,  and  then  did  exactly  what  Father 
Canisius  had  done  —  something  which,  later,  he  was  of  the 
opinion  he  ought  not  to  have  done:  he  argued  with  him, 

"But  if  you  will  not  give  me  a  direct  reply  I  am  obliged  to 
get  the  truth  circuitously." 

Said  Markus,  "A  curved  sword  will  not  go  far  into  a  straight 
scabbard." 

Professor  Bommeldoos  grew  impatient,  and  snapped  at  the 
doctor  aside  in  a  smothered  voice:  "Do  not  argue,  Colleague, 
do  not  argue!  Megalomaniacs  are  smarter,  and  sometimes 
have  subtler  dialectic  faculties,  than  you  have.  Just  let  me 
conduct  the  examination." 

And  then,  after  a  loud  "h'm!  h'm!"  he  said  to  Markus: 

"Well,  my  friend,  then  I  will  talk  straight  out  to  you. 
It  is  better  so,  is  it  not  ?  Then  will  you  give  me  a  direct 
reply  ? " 

Markus  looked  at  him  for  some  time,  and  said:  "You  can- 
not. 

"I  cannot!     Cannot  what?" 

"Talk,"  replied  Markus. 

"I  cannot  talk!  Well,  well!  I  cannot  talk!  Colleague, 
you  will  perhaps  take  note  of  that.  You  say  I  cannot  talk. 
What  am  I  now  doing?" 

"Stammering,"  said  Markus. 

"Exactly  —  exactly!  All  men  stammer.  The  doctor  stam- 
mers, and  I  stammer,  and  Hegel  stammers,  and  Kant 
stammers.    ..." 

"They  do,"  said  Markus. 

"Mijnheer  Vis,  then,  is  the  only  one  who  can  talk.  Is  it 
not  so  ?" 


THE    QUEST  435 

"Not  with  you,"  replied  Markiis.  "In  order  to  talk  one 
must  have  a  hearer  who  can  understand." 

Dr.  Cijfer  smiled,  and  whispered,  not  without  a  shade  of 
irony,  "Take  care,  Colleague!  You  also  err  in  dialectics." 
But  Bommeldoos  angrily  shook  his  round  head  with  its  bulb- 
ous cheeks,  and  continued: 

"That  is  to  say  that  you  consider  yourself  wiser  than  all 
other  men  ?     Note  the  reply.  Colleague." 

"I  think  myself  wiser  than  you,"  said  Markus.  "Decide 
yourself  whether  this  means  wiser  than  all  other  men." 

"I  have  made  a  note  of  the  reply,"  said  Dr.  Cijfer,  while  a 
sound  of  satisfaction  came  from  his  pursed-up  lips. 

Yet  the  professor  took  no  notice  of  these  ironical  remarks, 
and  proceeded: 

"Now  just  tell  me,  frankly,  my  friend,  are  you  a  prophet  ? 
An  apostle  ^  Are  you  perhaps  the  King  ?  Or  are  you  God 
himself?" 

Markus  was  silent. 

"Why  do  you  not  answer  now  ?" 

"Because  I  am  not  being  questioned." 

"Not  being  questioned!     What,  then,  am  I  now  doing?" 

"Raving,"  said  Markus. 

Again  Bommeldoos  flushed,  and  lost  his  composure. 

"Be  careful,  my  friend.  You  must  not  be  impertinent. 
Remember  that  we  may  decide  your  fate  here." 

Markus  lifted  his  head,  with  a  questioning  air,  so  earnest 
that  the  professor  held  his  peace. 

"With  whom  rests  the  decision  of  our  fate  ?"  asked  Markus. 
Then,  pointing  with  his  finger:  "Do  you  consider  yourself 
the  one  to  decide  ?" 

Both  of  the  learned  ones  were  silent,  being  impressed  for 
the  moment.     Markus  continued: 

"Why  do  not  you  now  reply?  And  would  you  have  de- 
cided otherwise  had  I  not  been  what  you  term  impertinent?" 

Here  Dr.  Cijfer  interposed: 

"No,  no,  Mijnheer,  you  mistake.     But  it  is  not  nice  of  you 


436  THEOUEST 

to  offend  a  learned  man  like  the  professor  here.  We  are  per- 
forming a  scientific  task.  You  impress  us  as  being  a  person 
of  refinement  and  advancement,  aside  from  the  question  of 
your  being  ill  or  not.  For  all  that,  it  behooves  you  to  have 
respect  for  science,  and  for  those  who  are  devoting  all  their 
efforts  and  even  their  lives  to  its  development." 

"Do  you  knov\^,"  asked  Bommeldoos,  in  a  voice  now  near 
to  breaking,  "do  you  know  what  the  man  whom  you  have 
scoffed  at  as  opinionated,  stupid,  and  a  ranter  —  what  that 
man  has  written  and  accomplished  .''  " 

Then  Markus's  stern  features  relaxed,  assuming  a  softer, 
more  companionable  expression,  and  he  took  a  chair  and  sat 
down  close  beside  his  two  examiners. 

"Look,"  said  he,  showing  both  of  his  open  palms,  "your 
naked  sensibilities  protrude  on  all  sides  —  from  under  the 
cloak  of  your  wisdom.  How  otherwise  could  I  have  touched 
you  r 

"Your  wisdom  —  so  much  greater  —  does  not,  however, 
make  you  invulnerable  to  our  opinion  and  stupidity,"  said  Pro- 
fessor Bommeldoos,  still  tartly,  indeed,  but  yet  with  far  more 
courtesy. 

"The  most  high  wisdom  of  God  does  not  make  Him  invul- 
nerable to  our  sorrows  and  sins,"  returned  Markus.  "Wis- 
dom is  a  covering  which  makes  its  wearer  not  insensible  to 
suffering,  but  able  to  support  it." 

"Forever  that  speaking  in  metaphor!"  exclaimed  Bommel- 
doos. "Figures  of  speech  do  not  instruct.  A  weak  and 
childish  mind  always  makes  use  of  metaphors.  Science  de- 
mands pure  speech,  and  logical  argument." 

"Forgive  me  if  I  offend  still  further,"  said  Markus,  gently 
now  and  kindly,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  black  cloth  envelop- 
ing the  arm  of  the  professor,  "but  it  is  exactly  your  own  weak- 
ness that  you  cannot  question.  Science  is  the  light  of  the 
Father.  Why  should  not  I  respect  it  ?  And  I  know  also 
what  you  have  written  and  accomplished.  But  the  most 
you  did  was  to  question  imperfectly,  and  then  to  assume  the 


THEQUEST  437 

complete  reply.  That  one  should  find  it  so  difficult  and 
unsatisfactory  to  reply  amazes  you,  because  you  do  not  real- 
ize the  imperfection  of  your  questions.  But  the  finest  and 
clearest  responses  —  those  that  are  most  satisfying  and  intelli- 
gible to  all  —  await  those  who  have  learned  better  how  to 
question.  If  I  esteem  mySelf  wiser  than  you,  it  is  solely  be- 
cause I  realize  that  we  have  nothing  but  metaphors,  and  that 
we  must  patiently  and  unpretendingly  decipher  as  a  commu- 
nication from  the  Father  the  meaning  of  all  these  metaphors. 
While  you  imagine  that,  from  your  words  and  documents,  one 
may  comprehend  His  living  Being." 

"With  your  permission,"  interrupted  the  professor.  "You 
seem  not  to  have  read  what  I  have  written  concerning  the 
logical  necessity  of  an  incomprehensible  basis  for  reality. 
Did  you  consider  me  such  a  dunce  as  not  to  have  perceived 
that?" 

"To  speak  of  things  is  not  necessarily  to  understand  them," 
replied  Markus.  "And  so  to  speak  of  them  is  proof  of  not 
understanding." 

"I  know  very  well  what  the  human  mind  can  compass,  and 
what  not;  and  in  my  last  work,  'On  the  Essence  of  Matter,'  I 
think  I  have  defined  the  utmost  to  which  the  human  mind 
can  attain,"  said  Professor  Bommeldoos. 

"So  did  the  Egyptians  place  the  farthest  reaches  of  the 
earth  at  the  first  falls  of  the  Nile,  to  which  the  river  was 
said  to  have  flowed  from  heaven.  And  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  years  passed  away  before  they  ventured  to  step 
beyond  that  boundary.  And  now  the  world  is  beginning  to 
fraternize,  and  men  to  co-operate  —  now  the  barriers  of  the 
world  are  being  removed  to  infinite  distance.  Who  then 
shall  term  that  which  the  human  intellect  can  grasp,  the  ex- 
treme limit  ?" 

"There  remains  a  barrier,  constituted  by  our  material 
structure,  just  as  there  is  a  barrier  because  of  our  confine- 
ment to  this  terrestrial  ball  which  we  cannot  leave,"  declared 
Professor  Bommeldoes,  loudly  and  oracularly,  encircling  his 


438  THEQUEST 

chin  with  his  hand,  as  was  his  habit  when  in  learned  discus- 
sions. He  seemed  to  have  quite  forgotten  that  he  had  before 
him  a  patient  for  examination. 

"You  read  the  book  of  life  from  the  end  toward  the  begin- 
ning," said  Markus,  "and  see  the  world  upside  down.  Why 
do  you  babble  of  a  dead  dust  which  would  establish  a  limit  to 
the  life  of  the  soul  ?  But  all  matter  is  made  of  living  thought, 
and  nothing  is  lifeless,  or  formed  without  life.  Mountains 
and  seas  are  thoughts  of  the  earth;  and  planets  and  suns,  and 
all  life,  are  the  thoughts  of  God.  The  stone  at  your  feet  seems 
to  you  dead;  but  neither  does  the  ant  that  creeps  over  your 
hand  perceive  the  life  of  it.  You  have  built  up  your  own 
body  — " 

"Out  of  existent  material,"  cried  the  professor. 

"There  is  nothing  existent  as  the  effect  of  other  life,  that  you 
cannot  search  into.  And  the  operations  of  your  life  meet  on 
all  sides  the  counter-influences  of  other  lives.  But  all  is  spirit 
and  life.  Shall,  then,  a  builder  say  that  the  house  he  has  built 
defines  the  boundary  outside  of  which  he  cannot  go?" 

"But  a  race  like  the  human  race  preserves  its  permanent 
characteristics,"  interpolated  Dr.  Cijfer. 

"Why  do  we  term  permanent  the  creatures  of  one  day? 
There  is  nothing  permanent,  and  there  are  no  persistent  races. 
Life  is  a  flowing  water,  a  flaming  fire  —  never  the  same  from 
one  second  to  another.  But  in  your  ignorance  you  make 
fixed  definitions,  write  dead  words  and  dead  books,  and  im- 
agine that  you  understand  the  things  that  live." 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence.     Then  Markus  added: 

"You  have  yourselves  created  death,  and  placed  the  barriers. 
Your  words  are  diseased  and  rotten;  and  with  those  words 
you  would  analyze  life.  Would  you  perform  an  operation 
with  unclean  knives  ?  But  with  your  dead  words  you  cut  into 
life,  and  thus  spread  death." 

Another  silence,  and  then: 

"Purify  your  thoughts  and  your  words.  Put  away  that 
which  is  impure  —  that  is,  the  superfluous.     Make  a  science 


THEQUEST  439 

of  words,  as  you  have  made  a  science  of  the  stars  —  as  exact 
and  as  sacred. 

"Through  co-operation  and  fellowship  among  scholars  you 
have  created  a  system  of  relations  called  mathematics.  Make 
also  such  a  system  of  significations,  for  you  miss  your  mark 
with  words,  and  fail  to  find  that  life  which  is  the  most  beautiful 
and  exquisite,  as  children  miss  the  moths  they  would  catch 
with  their  caps  and  with  bags.  And  through  co-operation 
and  fellowship  you  shall  create  a  demand,  the  response  to 
which  shall  ring  out  like  a  revelation  and  an  evangel  —  full, 
joyous,  marvelous." 

Markus  ceased  speaking,  and  gazed  as  though  into  the  far 
distance.  For  a  while  they  all  waited,  respectfully,  to  see  if 
he  was  going  to  say  more,  for  they  had  been  listening  eagerly. 

Then  Dr.  Cijfer  said,  in  a  gentle  tone:  "Your  views  are 
surely  worthy  of  consideration.  Neither  did  I  make  a  mis- 
take when  I  thought  you  a  person  of  advancement  and  refine- 
ment. But  let  me  remind  you  that  we  are  here  for  the  purpose 
of  making  a  medical  examination.      Without  doubt  you  will 

now  indeed  reply  to  the   simple  questions  that  I  shall   put  to 

>> 
you. 

Markus,  throwing  a  glance  and  a  smile  to  Johannes,  who 
had  been  listening  with  breathless  attention,  said  to  the  learned 
men: 

"I  spoke  not  for  you;  that  were  fruitless.  I  spoke  for 
him." 

After  that  he  uttered  not  a  word.  Dr.  Cijfer  questioned 
with  gentle  stress.  Professor  Bommeldoos  with  vehement 
energy;  but  Markus  was  silent,  and  seemed  not  to  notice  that 
there  were  others  in  the  room. 

"I  adhere  to  my  diagnosis.  Colleague,"  said  Bommeldoos. 

Dr.  Cijfer  rang,  and  ordered  the  nurse  to  come. 

"Take  the  patient  to  his  ward  again.  He  will  remain,  for 
the  present,  under  observation." 

Markus  went,  after  making  a  short  but  kindly  inclination  of 
the  head  to  Johannes. 


440  THEQUEST 

"Will  you  not  tell  us  now,  Johannes,  what  you  know  of  this 
person?"  asked  Dr.  Cijfer. 

"Mijnheer,"  replied  Johannes,  "I  know  but  little  more  of 
him  than  you  do  yourself.  I  met  him  two  years  ago,  and  he 
is  my  dearest  friend;  but  I  have  seen  him  rarely,  and  have 
never  inquired  about  his  life  nor  his  origin." 

"Remarkable!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Cijfer. 

"Once  again,  Colleague,  I  stand  by  my  diagnosis,"  said 
Bommeldoos.  "Initial  paranoia,  with  megalomaniacal  symp- 
toms, on  the  basis  of  hereditary  inferiority,  with  vicarious 
genius." 


XVIII 

In  all  this  time  the  King  and  Oueen  were  not  yet  married. 
That  was  the  way  of  things  in  such  lofty  circles.  They  were 
still  to  attend  many  more  banquets,  to  listen  to  many  more 
speeches,  and  to  make  a  great  many  more  bows.  I  should 
judge,  indeed,  that  they  were  just  about  half-way  through. 

And  while  most  of  the  people  acted  as  if  they  thought  the 
ceremonies  proper  and  pleasant,  and  took  their  part  in  the 
celebrations,  there  were  others,  who  met  to  say  that  they  were 
not  altogether  pleased.  Such  gatherings  are  called  "indigna- 
tion meetings."  Of  course  they  do  not  protest  against  the 
marriage  of  those  two  people  —  they  have  nothing  to  say 
against  that  —  but  only  against  the  prolonged  ceremonials. 
They  consider  the  banquets,  the  fine  array,  the  wine-drinking 
and  the  feasting  occasioned  thereby,  both  costly  and  unneces- 
sary. They  also  consider  the  maintenance  of  a  king  and 
queen  costly  and  unnecessary. 

Such  an  opinion  is,  indeed,  very  uncommon,  if  not  un- 
heard of;  for  you  remember  that  even  the  creatures  of  the 
pond  into  which  Johannes  dived  with  Windekind  had  found 
the  need  of  a  king  who  could  eat  a  great  deal.  So,  when  Jan 
van  Tijn  and  his  wife  got  ready  to  attend  that  indignation 
meeting,  Johannes  wished  to  accompany  them;  for  he  was 
curious  to  hear  what  would  be  said  there. 

Like  Marjon,  Johannes  was  now  in  a  boarding-house.  He 
was  with  some  friends  of  Jan  —  a  worthy  couple  without 
children  —  who  kept  a  total-abstinence  coffee-house.  The 
man  was  named  Roodhuis,  and  he  was  tall  and  stout.  He  had 
a  large,  forceful  face,  light-colored  eyes,  and  a  small,  fair 
moustache.  He  said  little,  and  had  a  great  dislike  of  alcohol 
and  of  soldiers.  His  wife,  too,  seldom  spoke,  but  was  very 
kindly  and  industrious.  Through  their  little  business  they 
made  a  livelihood,  and  no  more.     They  were  interested  in 

44» 


442  THEQUEST 

everything  that  concerned  the  labor  movement,  and  received 
in  their  small  assembly-place  all  of  the  leaders  and  speakers 
prominent  in  the  struggle.  In  that  little  hall,  too,  choir 
rehearsals  v^ere  held,  and  little  plays  were  given  —  as  often  as 
possible,  adverse  to  w^ar  and  to  alcohol,  and  in  favor  of  the  so 
ardently  desired  Freedom  and  Fraternity. 

Here  Johannes  found  board  and  lodging,  for  w^hich  he  did 
not  need  to  pay,  because  he  lent  a  helping  hand  in  the  w^ork  of 
the  place. 

He  had  just  been  having  a  hard  experience:  he  had  bidden 
his  little  friends  good-by.  Although  they  had  grown  larger 
and  stronger,  and  were  therefore  no  longer  so  tender  and  del- 
icate as  when  he  first  saw  them,  yet  the  parting  was  full  of 
sadness. 

"Why  do  you  go  away,  Johnny,  and  where  are  you  going 
to  live?"  they  asked. 

"I  am  poor,  and  must  work  to  earn  my  bread,"  replied 
Johannes. 

"Oh,  but  Mama  will  give  you  money  —  will  you  not. 
Mama  ?  And  you  can  always  eat  and  live  here.  Then  you 
will  not  need  to  work,"  said  Olga. 

"You  can  have  half  of  my  share  of  oatmeal  every  time," 
said  Frieda;  "I  get  more  than  I  want,  though." 

"No,  children,"  said  the  mother,  "it  is  not  nice  nor  well 
to  live  upon  what  one  gets  from  another,  without  working 
one's  self.  That  is  parasitism,  and  sinful  before  God.  Jo- 
hannes knows  this,  and  being  poor  he  is  good  to  wish  to  work." 

"Well,  then,  dear  Johnny,"  said  Olga,  "I  shall  pray 
that  God  will  make  you  rich  quickly  —  as  rich  as  we  are; 
and  then  you  will  not  need  to  work,  and  will  come  back  again." 

"I  don't  think  it  nice  of  God  to  make  Johnny  poor  and  us 
rich,"  said  Frieda,  pouting. 

"Fie,  Frieda,  you  must  not  say  that,"  said  Mevrouw. 
And  then  Johannes  went  away  swiftly  and  bravely  before  the 
tears  came. 

Later,  he  heard  that  Van  Lieverlce,  whom  he  had  not  bidden 


THEQUEST  443 

good-by,  had  told  everybody  that  Johannes  had  left  in  a  pet 
to  live  with  some  proletarians  because  of  his  having  been 
repeatedly  rebuked  by  himself  on  account  of  his  excessive 
vanity. 

In  the  little  public  room  of  the  total-abstainers'  coffee- 
house, "The  Future,"  a  large  circle  of  congenial  spirits  sat 
waiting.  Jan  van  Tijn  was  there,  his  wife,  an  infant,  and  the 
oldest  girl.  Marjon  was  there  also,  a  neighbor  having  vol- 
unteered to  care  for  the  other  Van  Tijn  children.  Besides 
those  named,  there  were  about  twenty  other  men  and  women 
in  the  little  hall  with  its  dirty,  dingy  hangings.  On  small 
tables  in  front  of  the  visitors  were  cups  of  tea  and  chocolate. 
Many  mothers  had  brought  their  infants.  There  was  a 
dearth  of  talking  and  a  deal  of  smoking;  for  it  would  have 
been  too  much,  at  the  outset,  to  put  a  ban  upon  both  alcohol 
and  tobacco. 

"Well,  what  did  they  find  with  their  examination  ?"  asked 
Jan  van  Tijn,  as  Johannes  entered  the  smoky  hall. 

"He  is  not  free  yet,"  replied  Johannes,  "but  he  talked 
with  them  so  finely  and  sanely  they  are  bound  to  let  him  go." 

"Good!"  said  Jan. 

"Come  here,  Jo.  Here's  a  cup  of  comfort  for  you,  then," 
said  Vrouw  Roodhuis. 

"But  all  the  same,"  cried  a  man  with  a  hoarse  voice,  a 
sallow  face,  and  black  beard,  dressed  in  a  brown  Manchester 
suit,  with  a  loose  scarf  around  his  sweater,  and  a  pair  of  sandals 
on  his  bare  feet,  "you  needn't  think  he  will  be  set  free.  As 
soon  as  you  begin  to  oppose  that  pest  of  hypocrites,  you'll  have 
the  whole  crew  at  your  throat.  That  sort  knows  it  all,  every 
time  —  whether  it  be  the  pastor,  or  the  dominie,  or  the  general, 
or  the  professor  —  always  the  same  pack;  and  if  they  once 
get  you  into  their  clutches  you  never  get  out  again,  whether 
in  jail  or  in  the  madhouse  or  in  the  hospital;  you  never 
get  out  till  they've  given  you  a  good  start  toward  kingdom- 
come." 


444 


THE    QUEST 


"Are  they  goin'  to  poison  'im  ?"  asked  a  woman,  in  alarm. 
"What  with?     Ratsbane?" 

"They'll  poison  him,  for  sure,"  answered  the  man  in  brown, 
"or  they'll  nag  him  to  death,  or  starve  him.  They  have 
methods  and  tricks  enough  —  the  villains!" 

It  was  scarcely  half-past  eight  o'clock  yet,  and  the  indigna- 
tion meeting  was  to  begin  at  nine.  So  it  was  proposed  to 
shorten  the  time  with  recitations  and  singing.  And  this  was 
done.  First  some  one  sang  alone  —  the  song  of  a  poor  con- 
script who  was  forced  to  go  to  war,  and  had  conscientious 
scruples  about  it.     Then  they  all  sang  a  song  of  freedom. 

After  that,  a  very  young  typographer  recited,  with  great 
fervor,  a  poem  describing  the  way  the  Jews  made  merry  at 
the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  on  Golgotha;  how  they  even  took 
their  little  children  with  them,  and  hoped  the  anguish  would 
be  prolonged,  that  they  might  have  the  more  pleasure. 

The  description  of  that  cruelty,  vehemently  expressed,  made 
a  deep  impression,  and  they  sat  listening  with  open  mouths 
notwithstanding  that  they  had  heard  it  many  times  before. 
When  it  was  over  they  all  stamped  uproariously  on  the  floor. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Markus  stood  at  the 
threshold  of  the  httle  hall. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Johannes;  and  the  others,  who  had  just 
before  been  shouting  "Hurrah  for  Golgotha!"  now  shouted 
"Hurrah  for  Markus!"  They  were  all  greatly  excited  and 
glad  to  see  him  free. 

"Good-evening,"  said  Markus, without  giving  token, himself, 
of  being  particularly  glad.  He  wore  again  his  customary 
workman's  suit.  From  all  sides  hands  were  held  out  to 
him. 

"I  hadn't  thought  it,"  said  Jan,  "that  they'd  let  you  out  of 
their  clutches  again.     How  did  you  manage  it  ?" 

"  Let  'im  have  something  to  eat,  first,"  said  Vrouw  Rood- 
huis.  "Aren't  you  hungry,  man?  You  couldn't  have  been 
in  clover  there. " 

"I  shouldn't  have  had  any  appetite  with  all  those  mad  folks 


THEQUEST  445 

about,"  remarked  another  woman.  "And  then,  too,  when 
they  wanted  to  poison  you!" 

"Yes,  I  am  hungry,"  said  Markus.  And  then  bread  and 
milk  were  given  him. 

"Why  did  you  come  here  again  V  asked  Marjon. 

Markus  replied  simply,  "I  had  something  more  to  say." 

After  he  had  eaten,  he  asked,  "Is  there  a  meeting  to- 
night?    Who  called  it?" 

"The  politicians,"  replied  the  young  typographer. 

"Felbeck  wants  to  be  President  of  the  Republic,"  said  the 
man  in  brown. 

"Is  there  to  be  a  debate?"  asked  Markus. 

"Listen!  Hakkema  is  coming,  too.  Oh,  there'll  be  a 
racket!"  said  Jan. 

"You  might  say  a  little  something,  too,  Markus,"  said 
Roodhuis.  "  You  must  give  that  confounded  military  set  a 
good  thrashing,  just  such  as  you  give  the  pious." 

"  I  never  have  given  the  pious  a  '  thrashing,'  "  said  Markus. 

"That's  a  damn  shame  I  "  said  the  man  with  the  sandals. 
"  Religion  is  the  root  of  all  evil." 

"No,  it's  militarism,"  said  Roodhuis. 

"No,  alcohol,"  said  the  young  typographer. 

"Neither  of  them!  It's  eating  meat  that  does  it,"  said  a 
pale,  slim  little  woman,  not  yet  twenty.  "First  you  slaughter 
animals,  then  you  eat  them,  then  you  drink,  and  then  you  mur- 
der and  steal.     One  thing  leads  to  another." 

"So  long,  I  say,  as  the  people  let  themselves  be  taxed  and 
fleeced  by  kings  and  priests,  so  long  as  they  bow  to  a  boss  — 
whether  they  call  him  patron  or  God  makes  no  diff"erence  — 
so  long  shall  we  remain  in  misery." 

"Now,  Markus,"  said  Jan,  "put  in  an  oar  yourself.  You 
know  better  how  to  pull  than  the  rest  of  'em,  I  should  say." 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you  a  story,"  said  Markus,  "if  you  will 
promise  to  remember  it,  and  not  ask  an  explanation." 

"Why  not  an  explanation?"  asked  the  man  in  brown. 
"What  does  that  mean  ?     Is  it  a  riddle  ?" 


446  THEQUEST 

"I  would  just  as  soon  be  silent,"  said  Markus. 

"Come,  now,  Markus,  pitch  in!  We  won't  ask  you  any 
more  than  you  want  to  tell  us." 

"Listen,  then,"  said  Markus;  and  he  began  his  story  in  a 
tone  which  constrained  them  all  to  silence. 

"Once  there  were  some  field-laborers  who  were  very  poor 
—  so  poor  that  when  they  were  asked  how,  with  all  their  chil- 
dren, they  could  make  both  ends  meet,  they  replied,  'The 
churchyard  helps  us  out.' 

"They  had  a  rich  landlord,  and  there  was  an  abundance  of 
land.  But  they  were  obliged  to  work  so  long  every  day,  and 
so  many  days  in  succession,  that  they  had  no  time  to  learn  any- 
thing —  not  even  the  best  way  to  plow  and  sow  and  reap. 
They  did  only  the  work  they  were  bidden  to  do.  So  they 
remained  dull  because  they  were  poor,  and  poor  because  they 
were  dull.     It  seemed  as  if  it  would  stay  thus  until  eternity. 

"But  the  landlord  grew  richer  and  richer,  through  the  toil 
of  his  many  laborers,  and  according  to  the  increase  of  his 
wealth  did  he  become  more  covetous  and  dissolute  and  in- 
dolent. And  he  demanded  that  his  laborers  work  still  harder 
because  his  desires  were  greater. 

"But  that  they  could  not  do.  And  the  help  of  the  church- 
yard was  so  very  great  that  they  were  filled  with  fear. 

"Then,  through  their  great  need,  there  came  to  one  of  them 
a  little  spark  of  light,  and  he  said  to  the  others:  'Brothers, 
this  is  all  wrong.  At  this  rate  we  shall  very  soon  perish  our- 
selves. We  have  hungered  long  enough.  Let  us  slay  him 
and  seize  the  treasure  we  have  collected  for  him.' 

"That  seemed  to  the  others  a  good  plan,  and  they  wondered 
they  had  not  thought  of  it  before.  Thereupon  they  slew  the 
rich  landlord,  and  divided  his  wealth.  But,  because  he  had 
lived  a  prodigal  life,  and  since  they  themselves  knew  not  the 
best  way  to  plow,  to  sow,  and  to  reap,  they  were  in  a  short 
time  still  poorer  than  before. 

"Then  the  son  of  the  landlord,  who  had  escaped,  returned 
to  them,  and  said: 


THEQUEST  447 

"  'You  see  it  was  stupid  of  you  to  kill  your  master,  for  now 
you  are  bound  to  starve,  because  you  cannot  manage  for  your- 
selves.' 

"Then  they  replied:  'Be  to  us  then  a  better  master,  and  we 
will  let  you  live.' 

"And  the  son  of  the  landlord,  who  had  the  knowledge  of 
his  father,  directed  their  work.  And  he  became  rich,  and 
they  remained  poor  —  so  poor  that  the  churchyard  had  to 
help,  although  not  to  the  former  extent.  Yet  was  there  land 
in  abundance. 

"But  the  spark  of  knowledge  which  that  extreme  need  had 
awakened  continued  to  shine,  and  that  one  laborer  said  to  his 
fellow-workers:  'Brothers,  still  is  it  not  well,  for,  although  we 
do  not  yet  die  ourselves  from  want,  our  children  die.  And  al- 
though it  is  not  right  to  slay  one's  lord,  why  should  it  be  right 
to  make  him  so  rich  that  he  becomes  idle  and  lewd  and  wan- 
ton ?  We  labor  hard,  and  our  toil  enriches  him.  But  he 
saves  nothing.  When  we  struck  down  his  father  we  did  not 
find  enough  to  feed  us  for  a  week.  We  must  not  suffer  this, 
for  our  wives  and  children  can  live  upon  what  he  wastes.' 

"Then  said  another:  'We  have  no  need  of  the  landlord, 
but  of  his  knowledge.  For  when  we  had  slain  our  lord  we 
found  ourselves  no  richer.  Nor  had  we  the  skill  to  create  new 
wealth.     Therefore  are  we  even  more  miserable  than  before.' 

"At  that,  a  third  one  said:  'Lacking  our  labor,  must 
he  die;  but  without  his  knowledge  we  must  starve.  Let  us 
go  to  him,  and  say  that  we  will  not  give  him  our  labor  unless 
he  give  us  his  knowledge.  If  he  refuse,  then  we  shall  die 
with  him;  if  he  assent,  then  we  shall  all  live.' 

"This  the  laborers  did.  And  the  young  landlord,  fearful 
lest  he  die,  taught  all  who  asked  him  with  what  they  must 
fertilize  the  land,  and  what  to  sow,  and  how  to  irrigate,  and 
all  the  secrets  of  tilling  the  soil,  so  that  they  might  live.  And 
he  also  gave  to  every  one  that  asked  it  some  land  to  cultivate, 
and  a  handful  of  grain.  'For  my  forefathers  also  began  with 
no  more  than  this,'  said  he. 


448  THEQUEST 

"Then  some  of  them  took  the  handful  of  grain  and  ate  it  up, 
because  they  were  so  poor  and  so  greedy.  And  they  squan- 
dered away  their  piece  of  land,  and  asked  not  for  the  knowl- 
edge wherewith  to  till  it. 

"But  others,  accepting  the  knowledge,  cultivated  their 
piece  of  land  with  the  mouthful  of  grain.  But  because  they 
had  for  so  long  suffered  a  scarcity  they  were  overjoyed  at  the 
harvest.  And  those  —  the  first  —  who  had  again  become 
poor,  they  pressed  into  their  service.  So  each  became  a 
landlord,  and  they  each  gave  to  the  first  landlord  a  share  of 
what  was  theirs.  Thus  the  first  landlord  remained  very  rich, 
while  the  others  were  even  richer,  and  the  very  poorest 
remained  as  miserable  as  before.  All  that  resulted  was  the 
renewal  of  slothfulness,  prodigality,  and  killing.  And  the 
churchyard  had  to  keep  on  helping. 

"But  the  spark  of  knowledge,  once  lighted,  continued  to 
burn,  and  one  laborer  said  to  the  others:  'Brothers,  still  it 
is  not  well,  for  we  remain  unhappy  beings.  The  rich  are  un- 
happy through  their  over-abundance,  and  the  poor  through 
their  poverty.     What,  then,  shall  be  done  that  it  be  otherwise  ?' 

"Then  said  another:  'Brothers,  we  have  taken  away  from 
our  landlord  both  his  power  and  his  knowledge.  We  have 
no  further  need  of  him.  But  what  master  is  it  then  of  whom 
we  have  need  ?     For  we  are  as  miserable  as  before. ' 

"Then  said  another:  'Brothers,  we  still  need  a  master,  but 
one  who  will  teach  us  wisdom  and  charity;  for  is  it  not  igno- 
rance through  which  some  have  eaten  up  their  seed-grain;  and 
a  lack  of  charity  that  has  caused  others  to  waste  all  their  har- 
vest, and  compelled  the  poorest  to  serve  them  ?' 

"Then  they  chose  a  master  who  taught  them  wisdom  and 
charity,  and  that  master  said:  'You  shall  not  give  full  pos- 
session of  the  land,  for  it  is  lent  to  all;  and  of  your  harvest 
shall  you  not  —  you  and  your  household  —  consume  more 
than  is  good  for  your  health.  And  all  the  surplus  shall  you 
sow  again;  for  there  is  land  enough.  And  no  man  shall  work 
for  another  who  can  himself  work  and  yet  does  not.' 


THEOUEST  449 

"And  they  did  according  to  this  command.  And  under 
that  master  they  founded  a  realm  of  plenty  that  was  called 
'Freedom.'" 

Markus  was  silent,  and  so  for  a  while  were  his  listeners. 
At  last,  the  man  in  the  brown  suit  said: 

"Well,  now,  but  they  might  have  done  that  just  as  well 
without  master  or  mandate." 

"Say,  Markus,"  said  Jan  van  Tijn,  "if  you  happen  to  know 
of  such  a  gentleman,  just  quietly  set  me  down  on  the  waiting 
list.     My  word  for  it,  if  he's  boss,  I'll  not  go  on  a  strike," 

"Well,  heaven  help  us!  Are  you  an  anarchist  ?"  asked  the 
other.     "You  throw  the  whole  principle  overboard." 

Jan  just  glanced  at  him.  "I  don't  hear  anything  fall  yet," 
said  he,  drily.  And  then,  looking  to  right  and  left  at  his 
neighbors: 

"D'ye  hear  anything.'"' 

The  company  laughed.  Markus,  looking  earnestly  at  him, 
said: 

"You  can  at  once  enter  that  service,  Jan,  as  can  every  one." 

"What  a  silly  gull!"  said  he  in  the  brown  suit. 


XIX 

On  the  way  to  the  Assembly-room  they  passed  the  Royal 
Residence.  The  windows  were  a  blaze  of  Hght,  for  another 
banquet  had  just  been  held,  and  the  marriage  was  thus  brought 
a  step  nearer.  The  lackeys  looked  down  at  the  thronging 
multitude,  and  smiled  disdainfully.  In  front  of  the  palace, 
erect  upon  their  horses,  their  carbines  at  their  hips,  sat  the 
hussars.  The  people  shouted.  They  wanted  to  see  the  bridal 
pair  do  some  more  bowing. 

And,  verily,  after  a  while,  open  flew  the  balcony  doors,  and 
out  came  the  King  and  Queen  —  for  all  the  world  like  the 
cuckoo  of  a  clock  at  the  stroke  of  the  hour;  and  there  they 
bowed  and  bowed  —  many  times  more  than  the  hours  that 
were  struck  by  the  clock.  Thus  the  crowd  had  its  will,  and 
shouted  to  hearts'  content.  At  the  same  time  Johannes  also  felt, 
distinctly,  a  thrill  of  enthusiasm,  although  it  was  mingled  with 
pity;  for  it  did  seem  as  if  the  crowd  found  delight  in  keeping 
those  two  poor  people  bowing,  without  asking  if  they  had  the 
least  desire  to  do  so,  so  soon  after  dinner,  and  after  a  busy  day. 

At  the  indignation  meeting  it  was  very  warm  and  crowded. 
People  stood  packed  at  the  entrance.  Inside,  above  a  haze 
of  tobacco  smoke.  Dr.  Felbeck  could  be  seen  sitting  at  a  table 
covered  with  green.  In  front  of  him  were  a  black  hammer, 
a  carafe,  and  glasses.  The  table  stood  on  a  little  stage  between 
side-scenes  that  represented  a  forest  by  moonlight. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  bustle  and  noise  in  the  hall. 
Above  the  clamor  rose  the  cries  of  the  colporteurs  reiterat- 
ing the  virtues  of  their  weeklies  and  pamphlets:  "Buy  the 
Pathfinder  —  three  cents!"  "Throne,  Exchange  and  Altar; 
or  the  Robber  Conspiracy  Unmasked  —  one  cent!"  "Hy- 
pocrisy; or  the  Source  of  all  Depravity  —  one  cent!" 
"Who  are  the  Murderers.''  —  two  cents!" 

450 


THEQUEST  451 

Dr.  Felbeck  looked  around  the  hall,  casting  piercing,  frown- 
ing glances,  like  a  general  surveying  the  field  of  battle.  At 
times  he  chatted  with  the  associate  chairman  who  sat  beside 
him,  apparently  about  this  or  that  advocate  or  opponent 
whom  he  observed  in  the  hall.  At  times,  also,  he  nodded 
smilingly  to  some  one  in  the  audience. 

The  doors  were  closed,  and  no  one  else  was  permitted  to 
enter.  A  few  helmeted  policemen  took  their  stand  at  the 
entrance. 

The  chairman  —  a  spruce  young  gentleman  —  after  straight- 
ening his  eye-glasses,  grasped  with  his  left  hand  the  old 
speaker's  hammer,  rapped  upon  the  table  with  it,  and  spoke  a 
few  words.  Gradually  it  grew  more  still.  Then  Dr.  Felbeck 
stood  up,  resting  upon  the  table  with  both  hands  —  his  head 
between  his  shoulders  like  a  cat  about  to  make  a  spring. 
Then,  rising  to  his  full  height,  and  glancing  several  times  at  his 
audience  —  challenging,  and  certain  of  success  —  he  began: 
"Comrades!" 

The  speech  lasted  an  hour  and  a  half.  What  he  said  ac- 
corded very  well  with  that  which  Johannes  had  heard  him 
say  when  they  first  met.  The  downtrodden  proletarian  must 
in  the  end  gird  himself  against  the  oppressor  —  against  the 
rotten  civic  society,  against  the  gentry  of  the  safety-box,  who 
are  supported  by  the  soldiers,  assisted  by  priests,  and  repre- 
sented by  the  Crown.  The  people  must  become  conscious 
of  their  power,  for  the  people  are  the  source  of  all  wealth,  and 
to  the  people  belongs  the  future.  If  only  the  laborers  would 
act  in  unison,  they  would  be  able  to  make  the  laws.  They 
were  by  far  the  majority.  They  might  compose  the  Parlia- 
ment, command  the  military,  possess  the  collective  wealth. 
Then  they  could  make  better  laws,  and  could  take  from  the 
rich  their  unmerited  privileges.  Then  would  come  a  time  of 
real  liberty  and  fraternity. 

Thereupon  Dr.  Felbeck  made  an  estimate  of  the  number 
of  guldens  a  minute  that  the  King  had  to  spend;  adding  the 


452  THEQUEST 

statement  that  whole  families  of  laboring  men  must  live  for  a 
week  upon  no  more.  He  showed  how  many  people  must 
work  hard,  continually,  to  pay  for  all  that  festivity  and  mag- 
nificence. He  showed  in  detail  how  the  rich  live,  and  what 
splendor  was  theirs;  and  he  claimed  that  such  beauty  and 
pleasure  were  the  right  of  each  and  all.  And  with  tears  in 
his  voice,  he  told  them  how,  with  his  meagre  wages,  the  poor 
wage-earner  must  make  both  ends  meet. 

He  said  the  laborer  must  learn  to  hate  his  enemy,  and  not 
let  himself  be  deluded  by  oily-tongued  preachers  of  peace  who 
were  paid  by  the  rich;  for  then  he  would  surely  remain  in  his 
misery.  And  yet,  in  the  end,  they  must  certainly  have  a 
share  of  the  pleasure  —  they  who  had  heretofore  always  come 
out  of  the  little  end  of  the  horn. 

All  that  Dr.  Felbeck  said  was  listened  to  with  avidity.  The 
listeners  grew  more  and  more  attentive,  and  the  speaker  more 
and  more  vehement.  There  were  frequent  outbursts  of  laugh- 
ter from  the  audience,  and  the  hall  trembled  with  the  stamp- 
ing of  feet  and  the  clapping  of  hands.  Sometimes  there  was 
cheering  to  the  echo.  And  when  the  speaker  ended  —  with 
a  fiery,  well-turned  clause  in  which  all  were  urged  to  join  the 
International  Social  Democratic  Labor-Party  —  Grand  Army 
of  Laborers — there  followed  such  an  uproar  that  Johannes 
lost  all  sense  of  sight  and  hearing. 

His  duty  done,  the  speaker  sat  down,  yet  he  looked 
around  with  some  anxiety  at  the  succeeding  speakers. 

Again  the  hammer  sounded:  "Would  any  one  like  to  add 
a  few  words  ?" 

Three  —  four  —  hands  went  up. 

"Hakkema  has  the  floor." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Jan.  "Now  for  a  Punch-and-Judy 
session!" 

Hakkema  was  a  small,  stocky  man,  with  long  hair  combed 
straight  back  to  his  neck.  His  voice  was  rough  and  harsh 
from  much  speaking,  and  as  he  spoke  he  dropped  his  head 
back,    in    such    a   way    that    his    shaggy    beard    stuck    out    in 


THE    GUEST 


453 


front.  He  began  very  softly,  almost  hesitatingly  —  appar- 
ently to  flatter  the  former  speaker.  But  very  speedily  the 
audience  observed  —  what  every  one  had  expected  — ■  that  he 
was  deriding  him.  His  deep  voice  grew  steadily  louder  and 
rougher,  and  his  jokes  tarter  and  tougher.  Part  of  the  audi- 
ence, carried  away,  and  agog  for  fresh  taunts,  burst  out 
in  loud,  insulting  laughter,  while  another  part  enlivened  itself 
by  hissing  and  whistling,  and  by  shouts  of  derision. 

The  irony  chiefly  concerned  the  fact  that  the  former  speaker 
termed  himself  a  proletarian,  while  at  the  same  time  he  owned 
a  villa  at  Driebergen,  and  had  a  son  preparing  to  be  a  lawyer. 
Of  course,  he  appeared  to  be  quite  disinterested  and  would 
fight  for  the  people,  if  only  the  people  would  be  so  good  as  to 
send  him  to  the  House  of  Representatives,  with  a  salary  of 
forty  guldens  a  week.  Certainly,  if  the  King  should  make 
Dr.  Felbeck  Minister  to-morrow,  with  a  salary  of  eight  thou- 
sand guldens,  Dr.  Felbeck  would  accept  it  out  of  sheer  self- 
sacrificing  devotion  to  the  people.  And  then  the  laborer 
could  demand  audience  of  Dr.  Felbeck,  and  ask  why  the  por- 
tion on  the  table  of  the  laborer  should  still  remain  so  small, 
and  also  when  the  general  national  distribution  would   begin. 

After  a  half-hour  of  such  talk,  the  speaker  ended  with  a 
stimulating  appeal  for  a  purified  class  struggle  in  which  no 
little  lords  among  the  proletarians  should  be  tolerated,  and  in 
which  —  pointing  at  Dr.  Felbeck,  who,  smiling  scornfully,  sat 
sharpening  a  lead-pencil — the  wolves  in  sheeps'  clothing  should 
be  restrained;  a  struggle  in  which  war  should  be  declared,  not 
only  against  all  tyranny,  all  coercion,  but  also  against  the 
despotism  of  party;  a  struggle  in  which  there  should  be  strife 
until  men  had  a  free  society  where  each  might  take  what  he 
pleased,  without  lords,  without  bosses,  without  safety-boxes, 
without  gods,  and  without  laws. 

The  applause  for  this  speaker  was  none  the  less  thunder- 
ing, mingled,  however,  with  shrill  whistlings,  and  cries  of 
"Throw  him  out!" 

But  Felbeck  was  a  match  for  the  man.     With  furious  ges- 


454  THEOUEST 

tares  and  banging  of  his  fists  on  the  green-covered  table,  he 
called  his  opponent  a  deceiver  of  the  people,  a  man  without 
judgment  or  conscience,  an  enemy  of  the  laborer,  a  sower  of 
discord  who  would  never  bring  anything  to  pass  save  disorder 
and  confusion. 

The  audience  grew  more  and  more  excited.  Ten,  twenty 
speakers  at  once,  stood  up  in  their  places.  Angry  words 
were  shouted  back  and  forth.  Everybody  thought  it  time  to 
say  something.  The  women  grew  nervous,  and  the  policemen 
looked  at  their  chief  as  if  only  awaiting  a  signal  to  put  an  end 
to  the  row. 

All  this  time,  Markus,  without  having  made  a  sign  either 
of  approval  or  of  censure,  had  been  sitting  between  Marjon 
and  Johannes,  with  the  family  of  Van  Tijn. 

"Have  you  been  listening,  Markus?"  asked  Marjon,  for 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  But  he 
nodded  "Yes." 

"Say  something,  then,"  said  Marjon. 

"Yes,  do,"  urged  Johannes.  "Tell  them  which  one  is 
right." 

"Speak  out,  Markus.  The  one  who  knows  ought  to  tell," 
said  Van  Tijn. 

"That  is  not  easy  to  do,"  said  Markus.     Then  he  stood  up. 

His  figure  now,  as  always,  riveted  attention,  and  the  adroit 
leader  of  a  tumultuous  meeting  felt  instantly  to  whom  he 
must  yield  the  floor  in  order  to  re-establish  calm. 

Thus  Markus'  first  words  rang  out,  amid  the  lessening  up- 
roar, as  in  a  subsiding  storm.  And  as  he  spoke  it  finally  grew 
very  still.  But  there  was  no  sign  either  of  assent  or  of  dis- 
agreement. 

"There  are  fathers  and  mothers  here,"  said  Markus,  "who 
know  what  spoiled  children  are.  The  spoiled  child  that  is 
always  coaxed  and  indulged,  like  the  one  that  is  always  con- 
strained, becomes  at  last  capricious,  malicious,  and  sickly. 

"Shall  we  then  treat  one  another  as  we  may  not  our  chil- 
dren ?     People  are  flattered  by  undue  praise  of  their   power 


THEQUEST  455 

and  influence  —  are  carried  away  by  the  sweetness  of  fine 
words  concerning  the  injustice  they  have  too  long  endured 
and  concerning  their  right  to  property  and  to  happiness. 
You  all  listen  to  that  eagerly,  do  you  not  ? 

"But  that  to  which  one  listens  most  eagerly,  it  is  not  always 
best  to  say.  There  are  things  hard  to  hear,  which  must,  how- 
ever, be  said  and  be  listened  to. 

"I  know  that  you  are  not  going  to  applaud  me,  as  yoH  did 
those  two  others;  but  yet  I  am  a  better  friend  to  you  than 
they  are. 

"Among  you  there  are  those  who  suffer  injustice.  Yet 
you  must  not  exalt  yourselves.  You  should  be  ashamed  of 
it.  For  whoever  continues  to  suffer  injustice  is  too  weak,  too 
stupid,  or  too  indifferent  to  overcome  it. 

"You  must  not  ask,  'Why  is  it  done  to  me?'  but,  'Why 
cannot  I  overcome  kV 

"The  answer  to  that  question  is.  Weakness,  stupidity,  and 
indifference. 

"I  do  not  blame  you;  but  I  say,  blame  not  others,  only 
yourselves.     That  is  the  sole  way  to  betterment. 

"Is  there  one  here  —  a  single  one  —  who  dares  assure  me, 
solemnly,  that  if  an  honorable  place  were  offered  him  by  his 
master,  on  account  of  his  good  work  and  his  good  judgment, 
with  higher  pay  than  that  of  his  comrades  —  that  he  would,  in 
such  case,  reply,  *No,  my  master,  I  will  not  accept;  for  that 
would  be  treachery  to  my  comrades,  and  desertion  to  your 
party.'     Is  there  one  such  ?     If  so,  let  him  stand  up." 

But  no  one  stirred,  and  the  silence  remained  unbroken, 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Markus,  "neither  is  there  here  a 
single  one  who  has  the  right  to  rail  at  the  rich  whom  he  would 
hate  and  supplant.  For  each  of  you  in  their  place  would  do 
what  the  rich  do.  The  affairs  of  the  world  would  be  no  better 
conducted  were  you,  not  they,  at  the  helm. 

"How  you  delude  and  flatter  and  fawn  upon  one  another! 
You  continually  hear  that  you  are  the  innocent,  downtrodden 
ones  who  have  so  much  to  suffer;  who  are  worthy  of  so  much 


456  THEQUEST 

better  things;  who  are  so  good  and  so  powerful;  who  would 
rule  the  world  so  well;  whose  turn  it  now  is  to  have  ease  and 
luxury. 

"Men,  even  if  this  were  so,  would  it  be  well  that  you  should 
always  be  told  it  ?  Would  it  not  make  of  you  conceited  fools  ? 
Would  not  the  reality  revenge  itself  frightfully  upon  your- 
selves, and  upon  those  fawners  and  flatterers  ? 

"It  is,  instead,  falsehood  and  conceit. 

"You  would  not  rule  the  w^orld  better  —  you  have  neither 
the  wisdom  nor  the  charity  to  do  so.  You  are  no  more  worthy 
of  pity  than  are  your  oppressors,  for  when  they  injure  your 
bodies  they  injure  also  their  own  souls.  The  rich  are  in  paths 
more  perilous  than  are  the  poor,  and  it  is  always  better  to 
suffer  wrong  than  to  commit  it. 

"  The  good  things  of  the  earth  do  not  yet  belong  to  you,  for 
you  would  make  the  same  misuse  of  them  as  do  those  against 
whom  you  are  being  incited. 

"Wage  war,  and  desist  not  until  death;  but  the  war  of  the 
righteous  against  the  unrighteous,  of  the  wise  and  charitable 
against  the  stupid  and  sensual.  And  question  not  whence 
come  your  companions  in  arms,  for  you  are  not  the  only  un- 
happy ones,  you  are  not  alone  merciful  among  men,  and  good- 
will and  uprightness  are  not  the  exclusive  possessions  of  the 
poor." 

Although  it  seemed  to  Johannes  that  Markus'  voice  was 
not  so  wonderfully  impressive  as  at  other  times,  the  people 
had  become  very  attentive.  And  when  he  stopped,  and  sat 
down  without  having  made  a  particularly  oratorical  or  cumu- 
lative close,  they  all  were  still  for  many  seconds.  But  not  a 
foot  stamped,  not  a  hand  stirred. 

And  this  very  silence  made  Dr.  Felbcck  angry. 

"Comrades,"  he  began,  in  his  most  scornful  manner,  with 
an  envious,  nasal  twang  in  his  voice,  "we  do  not  need  to  ask 
whence  the  wind  blows.  This  is  one  more  of  that  obsolete 
little  band  of  old-fashioned,  bourgeois  idealists  who  wish  to  re- 


THEQUEST  457 

form  the  world  with  tracts  and  sermons,  and  to  keep  the  toilers 
content  in  subjection  and  resignation.  Laborers,  have  you 
not,  I  ask,  practised  patience  long  enough  ?  Have  you,  then, 
no  right  to  the  pleasures  of  life  ?  .Must  you  fill  the  hungry 
stomachs  of  your  little  ones  with  palaver  about  wisdom  and 
charity  ?" 

"No,  no!"  roared  the  crowd,  freed  instantly  from  the  spell 
of  respect  under  which  for  a  moment  they  had  been  held. 

"Do  not  let  yourselves  be  befogged  by  those  tedious  maun- 
derings  that  would  reason  away  the  strife  of  the  classes.  Oh, 
true!  To  such  the  gentlemen  of  the  safety-box  listen  eagerly 
enough,  for  they  are,  oh,  so  afraid  of  the  War  of  the  Classes! 
But  if  they  were  to  hear  this  gentleman  talk,  they  would  shout 
their  approval.  Take  notice,  this  gentleman  will  do  much  to 
further  it.     Of  course,  they  have  his  medal  all  ready  for  him." 

"And  a  pension,"  said  Hakkema,  while  the  audience 
laughed. 

"He  is  an  unfrocked  priest,"  said  he  in  the  Manchester 
suit. 

"Damn  ye,  are  ye  a  workman  .''"  cried  a  voice  at  the  back 
of  the  hall.  "And  do  ye  mean  to  say  it's  my  fault  that  my 
children  perish  with  hunger,  and  not  the  fault  of  those 
cursed  blood-suckers  ?  You're  a  God-forsaken  hypocrite,  no 
laborer!" 

Markus  sat  very  still,  gazing  straight  before  him  into  the 
flame  of  a  gas-jet.  But  Johannes  saw  that  he  was  deathly 
pale,  and  that  his  eyes  seemed  to  sink  deeper  into  their  sockets. 
Beads  of  perspiration  were  standing  on  his  temples. 

Hakkema  stood  up. 

"Now  I  chance  to  know,  fellow-laborers,  that  this  man  has 
escaped  from  a  madhouse.  That  is  a  mitigating  circum- 
stance. Otherwise,"  Hakkema  went  on,  drawing  his  clenched 
hand  from  his  pocket,  and  thrusting  it  out  in  front  of  him, 
"otherwise  I  would  have  my  fist  at  his  jaw,  and  ask  him  if  he 
had  no  feeling  at  all  in  his  accursed  carcass,  that  he  begrudged 
the  laborer  his  pittance  of  the  good  things  of  life.     It's  an 


458  THEOUEST 

enormous  amount  of  pleasure,  isn't  it  —  glorious  pleasure  — 
you've  been  able  to  get  on  two  hundred  cents  a  day!" 

"You  cad!"  cried  the  young  typographer,  to  Markus  — 
the  very  same  youth  who  had  recited  the  poem  about  Gol- 
gotha. 

"I'll  invite  you  sometime  to  my  home  —  with  my  six  chil- 
dren, and  a  seventh  one  coming,  and  the  clothes  in  the  pawn- 
shop, and  no  warm  food  for  three  days  —  then  you  can  see 
what  a  fine  time  of  it  the  laborer  has." 

"Vile,  hateful  traitor!  ""  Hireling  socialist!"  "I'll  ring 
yer  neck  for  ye!"  "I'll  guzzle  yer  blood,  ye  hateful  cur!" 
Such  cries  as  these  rang  from  various  sides,  and  the  uproar 
steadily  increased. 

The  man  in  the  brown  suit  shrieked  invectives  without 
cessation  —  "Cad!  Carrion!  Thief!"  and  the  worst  ones 
he  could  think  of;  while,  in  his  excitement,  the  tears  ran 
down  his  pale,  drawn  cheeks. 

The  din  was  deafening. 

Johannes  clenched  his  fists,  and  stared  at  the  pale,  passion- 
ate faces  with  their  evil,  flashing  glances,  which  threatened 
them  on  every  side.  He  saw  Marjon  beside  him,  her  eyes 
distended  with  terror.  Markus  sat  immovable.  The  drops 
of  moisture  were  so  thick  upon  his  forehead  and  cheeks  that 
Johannes  took  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  them  away. 

Jan  van  Tijn  stood  up,  but  he  felt  he  could  do  nothing  to 
stem  that  tide.  He  began,  "Say,  are  you  people — "  But 
he  was  shouted  down,  with  threats  of  a  broken  head;  and 
already  fists  and  chairs  were  upraised. 

Then  the  chief  gave  the  signal,  for  which  the  police  had  so 
long  waited,  and  declared  in  a  hard,  impartial  voice  that  the 
place  must  be  vacated.  And  this  work  was  expedited,  with 
the  calm  satisfaction  of  officials  who  had  indeed  hoped  that 
matters  would  end  thus  —  as  usual. 

The  Roodhuis  family  and  the  Van  Tijns  remained  with 
Markus,  while  Johannes  and  Marjon  were  a  little  in  the  rear. 


THE    QUEST  459 

Roodhuis  and  Van  Tijn  wished,  they  said,  to  protect  Markus 
if  he  should  need  their  help.     Markus  said,  "No  need." 

"Please,  Markus,"  pleaded  Van  Tijn,  "don't  think  it  means 
so  much.  I  know  the  workmen.  They  fly  off"  the  handle  so 
easily,  but  by  morning  they'll  shriek  something  else.  They're 
not  so  bad  —  only  a  bit  rough,  you  know  —  sort  o'  half  wild 
yet.  Will  ye  believe  me,  Markus,  and  not  despise  'em  for't, 
nor  turn  yer  back  on  'em  for't,  Markus  ?" 

"No,  Jan,  surely  not,  if  only  I  have  the  strength,"  said 
Markus,  in  a  hoarse,  unsteady  voice. 


XX 

One  chilly  autumn  day,  the  three  sat  together  in  a  gloomy 
bar-room,  just  as  formerly  they  had  done  in  the  small  mining 
town.  And,  also,  the  fourth  one  was  there,  but  in  a  pitiable 
condition. 

Keesje  lay  in  Markus'  lap,  under  a  covering  of  faded,  old 
red  baize.  His  little  black  face  was  as  full  of  folds  as  an  old 
shoe,  his  body  wasted  away,  and  he  was  panting  and  gasp- 
ing for  breath.  A  hairy  little  arm  came  out  from  under  the 
red  baize,  and  a  long,  slim  black  hand  clasped  Markus'  thumb; 
and  whenever  Markus  had  occasion  to  use  his  hand,  one  could 
see  the  little  black  monkey-hand  stretch  out  and  feel  around, 
while  the  brown  eyes  looked  restlessly  backward,  as  if  now 
all  safety  were  gone. 

They  were  in  the  total-abstainers'  coffee-house,  for  Rood- 
huis  continued  to  proffer  hospitality  to  Markus,  although  this 
did  not  help  his  business.  After  that  indignation  meeting 
Markus'  stay  with  Roodhuis  was  made  an  excuse  by  all  his 
friends  for  their  avoidance  of  the  coffee-house.  Except  Van 
Tijn  and  a  few  other  independent  ones,  none  of  the  old  cus- 
tomers returned;  but  Roodhuis  would  not  permit  Markus 
to  go  away  on  that  account. 

"Now,  you  must  never  again  lower  yourself  for  that  rabble 
that  doesn't  understand  you,  anyway,  and  isn't  worth  the 
trouble,"  said  Marjon,  with  the  pride  of  one  who  knows  what 
takes  place  in  high  circles,  and  esteems  one's  self  of  better 
origin. 

"Tell  me,  Johannes,  what  you  would  do,"  said  Markus, 
kindly,  while  he  warmed  Keesje's  little  hand  in  his  own. 

"I  do  not  know,  Markus,"  replied  Johannes.  "It  was  a 
wretched  evening,  for  I  could  not  endure  that  it  should  cost 
you  so  dearly.  But  if  they  had  done  it  to  me  I  would  not  have 
cared." 

460 


THEQUEST  461 

"That  is  right,"  said  Markus.  "And  now,  my  dear  Jo- 
hannes, do  not  think  that  I  am  less  submissive  than  yourseU. 
Did  you  indeed  fancy  it?" 

Johannes  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  then,  it  is  not  scorn  which  humiliates,  but  the  doing 
of  unworthy  deeds.  And  those  people  are  not  less  worthy  of 
my  help  than  they  were  before.  Evil  inclinations  are  good 
inclinations  gone  astray." 

"Then  are  there  not  any  wicked  people  ?"  asked  Marjon. 

"Ay,  ay!  Because  there  is  not  a  black  light,  is  there  there- 
fore no  night  ?  Calmly  call  a  villain  a  villain,  but  take  care 
that  you  are  not  one  yourself,  Marjon." 

"But  are  there  not,  for  the  Father,  any  evil-doers?"  asked 
Johannes. 

"Why  should  there  not  be  for  the  Father  what  there  is  for 
us  ?  But  He  knows  —  what  we  do  not  know  —  the  why  and 
the  wherefore." 

"  But,  Markus,  I  saw  what  you  endured  that  wretched  eve- 
ning. And  it  must  not  be.  Must  you,  then,  let  what  is  high 
and  noble  be  so  misunderstood  and  defiled  ?" 

Markus  bowed  his  head  in  silence  over  the  coughing 
monkey.     Then  he  said  gently: 

"I  have  suffered,  my  two  dear  ones,  because  my  Father  has 
not  given  me  strength  enough.  Did  you  not  see  how  they 
listened  to  me,  and  trusted,  for  an  instant  ?  But  then  my 
Father,  in  His  own  way,  which  is  beyond  our  comprehension, 
gave  power  again  to  the  Evil  One.  Had  I  more  wisdom  I 
should  have  been  able  so  to  speak  that  they  would  have  under- 
stood me.  Thus  I  suffered  doubly:  on  account  of  their  dulness 
and  wickedness,  and  from  shame,  not  of  them,  but  because 
of  my  own  weakness.  And  this  I  say,  Johannes,  that  you  may 
know  what  weakness  also  there  is  in  one  who  is  stronger  than 
you  yourself  will  ever  be." 

Johannes,  his  chin  upon  his  clasped  hands,  looked  at 
him  long  and  thoughtfully,  and  then  whispered: 

"Dear  Brother,  I  believe  I  understand." 


462  THEQUEST 

In  this  way  they  Hvcd  together  for  some  time,  and  saw  one 
another  frequently.  Johannes  and  Marjon  performed  their 
daily  tasks  in  the  boarding-house,  and  Markus  went  out  every 
day  to  look  for  work.  But  Johannes  was  sad  and  troubled  to 
see  that  Markus  looked  more  pale  and  weary  than  formerly; 
and  as  Johannes  lay  awake  in  the  night,  he  heard  his  brother, 
who  slept  beside  him,  sigh  often,  and  softly  moan. 

One  morning  Markus  did  not  go  out,  for  Keesje  lay 
still,  looking,  and  could  neither  get  up  nor  eat.  When  Mar- 
kus took  away  his  hand  Keesje  began  to  whine;  and  this 
brought  on  a  paroxysm  of  coughing.  Markus  set  him  in  a 
patch  of  sunshine  that  fell  upon  the  counter  from  an  upper 
window.  There  he  brightened  up  a  bit,  and  looked  at  the 
flies  that,  chilled  with  the  cold,  crept  over  the  counter  near  his 
head.  But  toward  night,  when  Marjon  came,  it  was  all  over 
with  Keesje. 

He  was  all  shriveled  up,  and  as  light  as  a  handful  of  straw. 
They  put  him  into  a  cigar  box,  and  the  trio  buried  him  at 
night,  by  the  light  of  a  lantern,  in  the  bit  of  soggy,  black  ground 
between  the  foul  fences  that  had  to  represent  a  garden, 
and  where  shavings  and  papers  supplied  the  place  of  flowers 
and  trees. 

Marjon  and  Johannes  tried  to  control  themselves,  but  did 
not  succeed.     First  one  and  then  the  other  began  to  cry. 

"Truly,  it  is  silly,"  said  Johannes,  "sobbing  over  such  a 
creature,  when  so  many  thousands  of  people  are  starving 
every  day." 

Said  Markus,  "There  are  thousands  starving  here,  and 
infinitely  many  more  in  all  parts  of  my  Father's  world,  but  yet 
none  cry  a  tear  too  much  who  cry  as  you  do  now.  The  tears 
that  the  angels  will  shed  for  Johannes,  he  will  need  as  much 
as  Keesje  needs  these  tears  of  his." 


XXI 

At  last  they  had  had  enough  of  smiHng,  of  dining,  and  of 
bowing,  and  the  King  and  Queen  were  actually  to  be  married 
in  the  Cathedral,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Further- 
more, it  was  to  be  a  great  feast  day,  with  brilliant  illumina- 
tions at  night,  in  all  the  towns  of  the  good  Netherlands. 

What  Hakkema  had  said  of  Markus  —  that  he  had  escaped 
from  an  asylum  —  was  not  true.  He  had  simply  been  re- 
leased because  he  was  not  considered  dangerous,  and  because, 
nowadays,  the  asylums,  especially  those  of  the  working-class, 
are  already  too  crowded. 

But  he  had  been  warned  sternly  that  a  watch  would  be  kept 
over  him,  and  that  he  would  be  rearrested  at  the  slightest 
disturbance  of  the  peace. 

Since  the  indignation  meeting,  the  police  had  been  a  num- 
ber of  times  to  see  Roodhuis,  to  inquire  after  Markus.  It  was 
further  said  that  he  had  been  advised  not  to  speak  in  public, 
because  such  speaking  might  furnish  a  pretext  for  his  imme- 
diate arrest. 

Markus  had  not  again  spoken  in  public,  but  had  been  seek- 
ing work.  Sometimes  he  went  afoot  to  neighboring  towns, 
many  hours'  distant  —  but  always  fruitlessly.  He  did  not 
always  lodge  with  Roodhuis,  but  sometimes  with  a  kind- 
hearted  and  trusted  friend,  at  another  place.  Johannes 
noticed  that  Markus  was  very  poor,  for  he  was  obliged  to  live 
upon  what  his  friends  gave  him,  and  they  could  spare  but 
little, 

"Why  do  we  not  travel  together,  we  three,"  asked  Jo- 
hannes, "just  as  we  used  to?  We  could  surely  earn  our 
ivmg. 

"Yes,  those  were  good  times,"  said  Marjon.  "And  if 
Markus  would  go  with  us,  we  would  have  still  better  ones. 

463 


464  THEQUEST 

He  makes  even  better  music  than  ours.  We  shall  earn 
money." 

But  Markus  shook  his  head. 

"No,  dear  children,  for  us  three  those  good  times  will  not 
come  again.  My  singing-time  is  passed,  and  I  must  remain 
here,  for  my  task  is  not  yet  done.     But  it  soon  will  be." 

"And  then  shall  we  go  together?"  asked  Marjon. 

"No;   then  I  shall  go  alone,"  replied  Markus,  briefly. 

"Why  alone?"  asked  Johannes  and  Marjon,  almost  in  the 
same  breath.  And  there  followed  a  silence  of  some  mo- 
ments' duration. 

Then  said  Markus:  "You  will  be  faithful  and  remember  me 
and  my  words,  and  act  as  if  I  were  with  you,  will  you  not  ?" 

They  sighed,  and  thereafter  their  words  were  few  and  brief; 
nor  did  they  sing. 

But  on  the  morning  of  that  festal  day,  when  the  bells  of  all 
the  Netherlands  were  ringing,  Markus  came  into  the  little 
tavern  with  a  face  more  joyful  than  Johannes  had  ever  seen 
him  wear.     His  eyes  shone,  and  a  smile  was  on  his  lips. 

"Do  you  hear  the  bells,  Johannes?"  asked  he.  "It  is  a 
holiday." 

Johannes  had  entirely  forgotten  about  the  holiday. 

"How  splendid,  Markus,  to  have  you  so  glad.  Has  some- 
thing good  happened  ?" 

"Have  you  struck  it  ?"  asked  JufFrouw  Roodhuis.  "Happy 
man! 

"The  worst  is  over,"  said  Markus.  "Yes,  Juffrouw,  to-day 
I'll  '  strike  it',  and  it  is  well." 

After  eating  some  bread,  said  he:  "Johannes,  go  to  the 
Van  Tijns  and  ask  if  Marjon  may  go  with  us.  If  you  would 
like  to,  we  will  go  to  see  the  King  and  Queen." 

"Where?"  asked  Johannes. 

"In  the  church,  Johannes.  The  sexton  is  a  good  friend  of 
mine,  and  has  promised  me  a  place  for  you  both,  near  the 
singers." 


THE    QUEST  465 

I  shall  not  tell  you  in  detail  of  the  ceremony,  for  you  may 
read  all  about  it  in  the  papers:  how  the  church  was  crammed 
with  the  stateliest  and  most  distinguished  citizens  of  the 
Netherlands,  all  of  them  beautifully  dressed;  how  the  floral 
decorations  were  furnished  by  a  certain  firm;  how  people 
stood  at  the  door  all  night  that  they  might  be  the  first  to  enter 
in  the  morning;  how  the  bridal  pair  came  in  to  the  music 
of  Mendelssohn's  wedding  march;  how  charming  the  bride 
looked,  although  a  little  pale;  how  an  impressive  train  of 
brilliantly  decorated  military  men  and  magistrates  followed 
the  royal  pair,  and  grouped  themselves  about  them,  till  the 
church  interior  seemed  truly  magnificent;  how  respectfully 
the  people  stood,  and  how  stirred  they  all  were;  how  the  Min- 
ister made  a  brief  but  touching  speech,  that  affected  all 
profoundly;  how  finely,  during  the  customary  formalities, 
the  King  carried  himself,  and  how  winsomely  the  Queen;  how 
the  Queen,  moreover,  said  "Yes"  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  all 
present;  how  the  King  then  spoke  a  few  words,  in  which  he 
promised  to  consecrate  all  his  powers  to  the  good  of  his  beloved 
people,  and  invoked  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  difficult  but 
exalted  task;  and  how,  finally,  a  thundering  "Long  live  the 
King!"  and  "Long  live  the  Queen!"  burst  forth,  making  the 
whole  vast  edifice  resound. 

With  all  of  this  the  papers  have  accurately  acquainted  you. 
But  you  might  perhaps  recall  that  a  number  of  journals  had 
something  to  say  of  a  slight  disturbance  caused  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  who  probably  was  not  quite  right  in  his  head. 
The  incident,  however  —  so  the  papers  averred  —  had  no  sig- 
nificance whatever,  and  was  speedily  forgotten;  such  instances 
often  occurring  at  ceremonies  attended  by  great  crowds. 

The  disturber  of  the  peace  —  so  the  papers  stated — was 
one  whom  the  police  had  long  held  under  surveillance,  on 
account  of  his  peculiar  behavior.  He  was,  therefore, 
promptly  taken  into  custody,  the  police,  indeed,  having  had 
no  little  difficulty  in  protecting  him  from  the  fury  of  the  popu- 
lace.    The  royal  pair,  not  in  the  least  agitated  by  the  occur- 


466  THE    GUEST 

rence,  drove  home  through  the  enthusiastic  rejoicings  of  the 
people,  greeting  all  with  friendly  smiles. 

This,  then,  was  the  information  imparted  by  some  few  of 
the  newspapers  —  not  all  of  them.  But  now  I  will  tell  you 
what  actually  took  place.  I  know  well,  because  Johannes  and 
Marjon  —  for  whom  the  sexton  had  secured  a  fine  place  with 
the  singers  in  the  church  choir,  and  who,  therefore,  witnessed 
everything  —  told  me  all  about  it. 

In  the  nave  of  the  cathedral,  above  the  arches  of  the  aisles, 
and  running  beneath  the  high  windows,  is  a  very  narrow 
gallery  having  a  stone  balustrade.  The  only  way  to  this  gal- 
lery is  through  small  doorways  called  "Monks'  Holes."  They 
are  so  named  because  from  them,  in  olden  times,  the  friars 
could  witness  the  church  rites  below. 

When  the  King  had  ended  his  brief  speech,  and  all  present, 
being  deeply  impressed,  held  respectful  silence,  there  appeared 
up  above,  through  one  of  these  openings,  a  man  in  a  spacious, 
dun-grey  mantle,  with  a  white  cloth  about  his  neck.  And 
suddenly,  in  the  deep  silence,  the  voice  of  this  man  —  much 
fuller  and  more  powerful  than  that  of  the  King  —  cried  out, 
so  that  they  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  every  corner  of  the 
great  temple,  these  words: 

"King  of  men!" 

At  once  everybody  looked  up,  including  the  King  and 
Queen,  who  were  directly  opposite. 

But  the  man  was  not  looking  at  them.  He  held  his  head  a 
little  backward,  and  his  dark  hair  fell  down  in  curls  over  the 
white  linen.  His  eyes,  beneath  their  half-closed  lids,  were 
gazing  into  the  light  of  the  arched  windows  opposite  him  as 
if  to  screen  the  inner  vision  from  the  too  fierce  outer  light.  His 
figure  was  tall  and  erect.  One  hand  rested  on  the  white  bal- 
ustrade, the  other  was  raised  to  the  height  of  his  head,  in  a 
strange  and  majestic  posture  of  authority. 

Again  he  cried: 

"Hail  to  thee.  King  of  men!" 


THE    QUEST  467 

The  master  of  ceremonies  with  his  white  staff,  the  gen- 
erals, stiff  with  gold,  the  diplomats  and  magistrates,  all  looked 
with  something  of  wonder,  by  turns  at  the  speaker,  at  one 
another,  and  at  the  royal  pair,  not  knowing  but  that  it  was  a 
special  addition  to  the  program,  of  which  there  was  no  official 
mention.  But  since  it  had  made  an  impression,  and  seemed 
to  befit  the  temper  and  spirit  of  the  assembly,  all  continued  to 
listen.  And  the  conductor  of  the  choir  of  children,  whose  turn 
it  now  was  to  take  part,  waited  and  listened  as  well.  And 
quite  without  hindrance,  Markus  spoke  the  following: 

"Hail  to  him  who  should  be  called  the  King  of  men! 
Blessed  is  he  who  merits  that  name. 

"For  he  is  crowned  by  the  grace  of  God,  which  is  wisdom. 
His  sceptre  is  love,  and  his  seat  is  righteousness. 

"Among  the  millions  who  wander  and  complain,  he  is  the 
strong  and  wise  one,  who  goes  before  and  lights  the  way. 

"Blessed  is  his  progress,  for  without  effort  he  leads  the 
multitude. 

"Blessed  are  his  thoughts,  for  beyond  all  others  he  fore- 
sees the  marvels  of  the  Father. 

"  Blessed  is  his  word,  for  he  is  the  poet  who  fashions  worlds 
after  the  pattern  of  the  Father.     God's  mouthpiece  he  is, 

"Joyful  is  he  in  the  midst  of  sadness  and  happy  in  all  ad- 
versity; for  wherever  he  goes  he  dwells  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Eternal,  and  hears  His  wings  above  him. 

"Among  the  countless  lame  and  maimed,  in  the  multi- 
tude of  the  defective  and  infirm,  he  is  the  only  perfect  one, 
showing  what  it  is  possible  for  man  to  be. 

"Strong  is  he,  and  beautiful  in  person;  proud  and  unpre- 
tentious; daring  and  patient;  wise  in  great,  and  sagacious  in 
lesser,  things;  stern  in  deed,  yet  tender-hearted;  unlimited 
in  love;  gentle,  but  never  weak. 

"For  he  is  the  only  hale  flower  of  perfect  bloom  in  a  full 
field  of  the  pale  and  the  deformed.  Honor  be  to  him!  Elect 
him,  and  encompass  him  with  care  and  with  homage;  for 
in  him  exists  the  future  and  the  entire  race. 


468  THEQUEST 

"He  is  the  director  of  the  ways  of  men,  and  bears  with  ease 
the  burden  of  their  sorrow  and  their  care,  for  he  knows  the 
issue  and  the  sokition. 

"He  is  the  maker  and  maintainer  of  order  in  human  rela- 
tions, because  he  knows  and  comprehends,  and  beholds  in  his 
mind,  like  an  accurate  map,  the  longings  and  emotions  of 
men. 

"He  operates  not  through  pressure  of  fear  or  force,  but 
through  the  superiority  of  his  mind,  which  must  be  perceptible 
to  all. 

"He  is  the  regulator  of  the  labor  of  men,  teaching  them 
how  to  bring  forth  and  to  distribute  in  such  manner  that  none 
may  have  overflow  while  others  suffer  scarcity;  and  also  that 
none  may  be  idle  while  others  overwork.  He  plans  and 
confirms  the  bond  through  which  each  finds  his  place  in 
the  great  family,  so  that  life  becomes  fine  and  orderly  and 
easy,  like  the  figures  of  a  well-drilled  dance. 

"Such  is  the  King  of  men.  His  power  is  given  him,  not 
through  the  unreasoning,  capricious  fancy  of  the  undeveloped 
who  are  the  slaves  of  custom  and  of  idle,  impressionable 
fear,  but  through  the  reasonable  views  of  the  multitude  who 
follow  and  honor,  in  him,  their  own  best  self. 

"He  moves  not  in  the  splendor  of  external  pomp,  neither 
wears  he  a  golden  crown;  but  around  his  head  streams,  visible 
to  all,  the  grace  of  God,  which  is  wisdom,  love,  and  beauty." 

When  Markus  had  said  this,  people  here  and  there  be- 
gan to  be  restless.  The  master  of  ceremonies  indicated  that 
enough  had  been  said,  and  sent  one  lackey  to  the  choir-con- 
ductor to  ask  why,  according  to  regulations,  there  was  no 
singing,  and  another  lackey  to  the  door  to  see  if  the  carriages 
were  in  waiting. 

But  the  carriages  were  not  yet  there,  and  the  children  who 
were  to  sing  the  chorus  now  in  order,  remained,  with  per- 
plexed faces  and  open  mouths,  gazing  at  that  strange  figure 
speaking  as  if  out  of  the  sky  in  such  a  marvelous  voice.     The 


THEQUEST  469 

conductor  failed  to  attract  their  attention,  and  realized  that 
all  his  painstaking,  studious  preparations  for  the  song  were 
useless. 

Markus  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  the  increasing  un- 
rest and  nervousness,  nor  to  the  commanding  gestures  of  the 
irritated  master  of  ceremonies  that  he  cease  speaking;  in- 
stead, he  now  raised  his  voice  until  it  reverberated  from  the 
high  vaultings: 

"Where  is  he,  that  King  of  men  ? 

"Where  is  the  people's  King?  Where  is  the  people's 
Queen  —  his  peer  —  who  supports  and  supplements  him? 

"Seek  them,  ye  unhappy  ones!  Never  so  much  as  now 
have  you  had  need  of  them. 

"Seek  them  in  every  land;  for  misery  and  ugliness  and 
barrenness  and  confusion  are  not  much  longer  to  be  endured. 

"Seek  them  in  the  city  and  in  the  country.  Seek  them 
also  in  the  alleys  and  in  the  hovels.  Yes,  seek  them  in  the 
prisons  and  in  the  places  of  execution.  For  even  so  great  is 
your  confusion." 

Then,  bending  his  head  toward  the  royal  pair  below,  and 
fastening  upon  them  and  the  surrounding  group  of  splendid 
notables  his  flashing  glance,  Markus  shouted  in  vehement, 
resounding  tones: 

"But  seek  them  not  here.  Has  the  light  of  the  grace  of 
God  pointed  hither  ? 

"Has  the  grace  of  God  become  here  evident  to  all,  like  a 
shining  aureole  of  wisdom  and  love  and  beauty  ? 

"What  children  and  mischief-makers  you  are  —  you  there, 
with  your  robes  of  state,  and  your  badges  of  dignity,  —  that 
you  think  to  create  a  king  without  the  manifestation  of  the 
grace  of  God! 

"Deluded  by  an  empty  sound,  by  a  dynastic  name, 
you  in  your  ignorance  would  proclaim,  'Here  is  a  king,  and 
here  therefore  must  God's  grace  be  manifested,  for  even  so  we 
wish  it  to  be.' 


470  THEQUEST 

"Would  you,  like  mischief-makers  and  frivolous  bugle- 
blowers,  dictate  to  your  God,  and  show  Him  where  to  bestow 
His  grace  ? 

"Who  has  beheld  in  this  pair  of  wretched  human  beings 
the  wisdom,  beauty,  love,  and  power  which  are  the  visible 
tokens  of  God's  elect  ? 

"Do  you  not  tremble,  then,  at  the  fearful  responsibility  you 
take  upon  yourselves,  and  put  also  upon  these  two  pitiable 
people,  by  this  blasphemous  child's-play?" 

The  excitement  now  became  more  serious.  That  the 
King  and  Queen,  counts  and  barons,  generals,  court  mar- 
shals, state  counselors  and  ministers  should  be  called  mis- 
chief-makers and  frivolous  bugle-blowers,  was  not  to  be 
tolerated. 

The  King  grew  red,  coughed  in  his  glove,  and  looked 
angrily  at  the  master  of  ceremonies.  The  Queen,  on  the  con- 
trary, grew  pale,  and  nervously  fingered  the  folds  of  her  heavy, 
white-satin  train.  Half  turning  round,  a  quick-witted  cour- 
tier beckoned  to  the  organist,  and  shouted:  "Music!"  A 
general  —  Johannes  recognized  him  as  one  of  the  "Pleiades" 
—  in  an  attempt  at  guarding  his  Rulers,  cried  out  with  all  the 
dramatic  importance  and  blufFness  of  a  war-charge: 

"Silence,  miscreant!" 

But  it  had  to  be  admitted  that  this  sounded  more  ridiculous 
than  impressive.  And  not  one  of  the  courtiers,  officers,  or 
magistrates  felt  individually  powerful  enough  to  set  himself 
by  voice  and  bearing  against  that  forceful  speaker.  Each 
felt  that  he  would  appear  theatrical.  And  the  man  in  the 
grey  cloak,  up  above  there,  was  not  that.  Besides,  the  as- 
sembly gave  no  countenance  to  such  effort,  and  was,  like  every 
great  gathering  of  people,  under  the  influence  of  the  most 
powerful  personality. 

At  last,  the  organist  comprehended  what  was  desired  of 
him  in  this  critical  situation,  and  drawing  out  all  the  stops  he 
sent  forth  a  heavy  peal  of  trembling  sound.     In  the  mean- 


THE    QUEST  471 

time,  two  policemen  were  despatched  aloft  to  silence  the  un- 
desirable speaker. 

But  the  majestic  music  rang  out  upon  the  words  of  Markus 
as  if  in  solemn  confirmation.  So  at  least  it  seemed  to  Johan- 
nes, and  to  many  others  in  the  church.  Markus  ceased 
speaking,  and  appeared  to  be  listening,  pensively. 

The  policemen  returned  without  having  attained  their  ob- 
ject. The  gallery  could  only  be  reached  by  climbing  over  a 
great  beam,  having  broken  and  decayed  supports,  one  hundred 
feet  above  the  floor.  The  officers,  becoming  dizzy,  lost  their 
zest  for  the  affair,  and  the  firemen  had  to  be  sent  for. 

The  music  stopped  again,  and  yet  there  was  no  continuance 
of  the  ceremonies.  Markus  still  stood  calmly  in  his  elevated 
place,  looking  down  upon  the  throng  below  with  that  sad 
expression  of  countenance  which  Johannes  knew  so  well. 
And  yet  again,  softer,  but  with  keen   and  cutting  penetration  : 

"  Oh,  ye  poor,  poor  people  !  Slaves  of  the  -devil,  called 
custom  ! 

"You  know  no  better,  and  cannot  do  otherwise.  You 
mean  to  perform  your  duty,  and  to  reach  that  which  is  good 
and  holy. 

"How  would  you  possibly  find  your  King?  And  how 
would  you  maintain  order  —  holy  order  —  without  these  two 
people;  without  him  whom  you  happen  to  have  named  your 
king,  as  you  might  have  named  some  foundling  ? 

"But  notwithstanding  you  have  felt,  every  one  of  you,  that 
I  spoke  the  truth  just  now,  you  yet  will  continue  this  unblush- 
ing lie  because  you  dare  not  do  otherwise,  and  because  you 
know  no  other  way. 

"But  bethink  yourselves,  unhappy  beings!  Cowardice 
and  weakness  shall  not  excuse  you,  if,  knowing  the  lie,  you 
adhere  to  it,  and,  seeing  the  truth,  you  accept  it  not. 

"What  you  endure  is  indeed  terrible.  I  esteem  you  still 
more  worthy  of  pity  than  the  neglected  people  out  of  whose 
misery  you  have  extracted  your  splendor. 

"You  have  burdened  this  poor  pair  of  human  beings  with 


472  THEQUEST 

royalty  —  a  power  befitting  only  the  strongest  and  the  wisest 
among  men. 

"Thus  do  you  crush  their  weak  spirits  under  a  weight  which 
only  the  strongest  can  bear.  You  desecrate  the  name  of  King 
—  you  blaspheme  against  God,  whose  grace  is  not  subject  to 
your  command. 

"You  dazzle  your  bewildered  people  with  a  blinding  glare, 
as  if  they  truly  had  a  king.  But  it  is  an  idle  puppet-show, 
to  comply  with  a  hollow  peace  and  a  defective  method. 
There  is  none  among  you  who  has  the  wisdom  and  the  might 
to  lead  this  people  into  righteousness  ;  and  yet  you  bear  all  the 
responsibility  for  their  confusion,  their  ignorance,  their  crude- 
ness,  and  their  misery. 

"And  they  are  the  least  guilty,  because,  in  working  for  your 
luxury,  they  miss  the  opportunity  to  learn. 

"But  you  pride  yourselves  upon  your  knowledge  and  your 
refinement.  You  know  how  the  industrious  lack  food,  and  the 
rich  have  the  privilege  of  idleness.  You  know  how  an  over- 
abundance flows  to  you  from  the  deprivations  of  the  neglected. 
You  know  the  injustice  of  all  this,  and  yet  permit  it.  And  on 
these  two  unfortunates  you  impose  the  responsibility  and  the 
He. 

"But  you  know  —  and  you  shall  not  be  justified! 

"And  you,  two  unfortunates,  corrupted  by  the  burden  of 
your  imposed  greatness  —  poor  man,  poor,  poor  little  woman! 
The  superhuman  power  to  break  the  spell  of  lies  round  about 
you  will  not  be  yours.  May  the  Good  Father,  who  hath  not 
poured  out  His  grace  upon  you,  encompass  you  with  His  com- 
passion." 

Just  then  an  excited  young  adjutant  drew  out  a  revolver, 
and  cried,  "He  insults  the  Queen!" 

A  more  moderate  diplomat,  fearing  a  panic,  held  back  his 
hand.  The  cry  "He  insults  the  Oueen!"  was  repeated  at  the 
entrance  to  the  church.  And  an  uproar  was  heard  outside, 
for,  at  the  coming  of  the  firemen,  the  waiting  crowds  had  over- 


THEQUEST  473 

heard  something  about  a  murderer,  or  a  madman,  who  was 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  church. 

The  hehneted  men  now  appeared  in  the  small  gallery,  and 
dragged  Markus  aside.  They  immediately  bound  him  with 
strong  cords,  fearing  he  might  throw  them  down  below.  Then 
one  of  them  first  made  his  way  over  the  big  beam,  and  ordered 
Markus  to  come  to  him.  After  that,  the  other  cautiously 
followed. 

The  assembly  could  not  see  this,  because  it  took  place  in  the 
dark  ridge  of  the  aisle;  but  all  breathed  freely  once  more,  now 
that  the  powerful  voice  up  above  was  silent.  Again  the  organ 
pealed  forth,  and  the  royal  pair,  ceremoniously  preceded  by 
the  court  official,  at  last  proceeded  toward  the  exit,  for  the 
carriages  were  now  ready.  The  singing  by  the  children  was 
omitted.  Everything  else  went  just  as  the  daily  papers  have 
recorded  it  for  you. 

Markus,  tightly  bound,  was  led  out  through  a  side  door, 
yet  not  so  secretly  but  that  the  crowd  became  aware  thereof, 
and  a  riotous  mob  soon  encircled  the  firemen  and  their  pris- 
oner. 

"The  Queen  insulted!"  they  shrieked.  *' Kill  him!  Orange 
forever!"     And  they  pressed  closer  and  closer. 

When  Johannes  and  Marjon,  hurried  and  breathless,  had 
forced  their  way  out  through  the  disorderly  throng,  they  saw, 
in  the  distance,  above  the  encircling  crowds,  the  shining  hel- 
mets, swaying  and  undulating  as  they  gradually  moved  farther 
and  farther  away.  Hands,  hats,  walking-sticks,  and  umbrellas 
could  be  seen,  now  uplifted  and  then  lowered. 

The  two  followed  on,  in  extreme  anxiety,  but  they  were  not 
so  fortunate  as  to  get  close  by.  They  saw  the  red,  angry 
faces  of  men  and  women,  and  heard  the  shouts  of,  "Orange 
forever!"  and  "Kill  him!"  At  last,  to  their  relief,  they  saw 
approaching  a  long  file  of  policemen,  who  forced  their  way 
through  the  crowd.  The  people  now  pressed  closely  about 
the  entrance  to  a  narrow  alley  in  which  was  the  police-station. 


474 


THE    GUEST 


Then  Johannes  saw  a  man  take  up  a  large  Iron  ash-can  that 
stood  on  a  stoop  at  the  corner  of  the  alley,  and  toss  it  so  that 
it  came  down  in  the  middle  ot  the  clamoring  crowd  where 
Markus  was.  A  great  cloud  of  yellow-white  ashes  flew  from 
it,  and  the  rabble  laughed  and  cheered.  The  police  cleared 
the  alley,  and  the  mob  slowly  scattered,  with  the  triumphant 
shout:  "Orange  forever!" 

When  Johannes  peered  into  the  alley,  between  the  police- 
men who  w^ould  not  let  him  through,  he  saw  Markus  —  no 
longer  walking,  but  only  an  inert  body  under  the  weight  of 
which  the  firemen  were  moving  with  shuffling  feet. 

Marjon  and  Johannes  waited  patiently  during  what  seemed 
an  hour.  It  might  have  been  only  fifteen  minutes.  Then  they 
obtained  permission  to  pass  through,  and  to  see  their  brother 
in  the  station-house. 

When  questioned,  an  officer,  who  was  sitting  at  the  en- 
trance, pointed  over  his  shoulder  with  his  pipe-stem  to  a  dark 
corner. 

There,  upon  the  wooden  floor,  unconscious,  lay  Markus. 
His  clothing  was  torn  to  rags;  his  hair,  his  beard,  his  eye- 
brows and  lashes,  were  white  with  ashes;  and  over  all  were 
dark  red  clots  and  streaks  of  coagulated  blood.  He  breathed 
heavily  and  painfully.  There  was  no  one  close  beside  him, 
and  he  lay  unwashed  and  uncared  for,  with  the  rope  still 
around  his  wrists. 

Johannes  and  Marjon  asked  for  water,  but  were  not  per- 
mitted to  do  anything.  They  had  to  wait  until  the  municipal 
doctor  came.  Tightly  clasping  each  other's  hand,  they  waited, 
watching  their  friend.  At  last  the  doctor  came,  and  cut  away 
the  rope.     It  was  not  a  mortal  hurt,  he  said. 

They  saw  the  ambulance,  with  its  white  awning  come,  and 
saw  Markus  laid  therein.  Then,  hand  in  hand,  they  walked 
behind  to  the  door  of  the  hospital,  without  speaking  a  word. 

That  evening  there  were  great  rejoicings  and  brilliant  illu- 
minations in  all  the  towns  and  villages  of  the  dear  Netherlands. 


THEOUEST  475 

Everywhere  there  were  flaming  torches  and  exploding  fire- 
works, and  on  all  sides  rano;  strains  of  "  Wilhelmus !  "  and 
"  Orange  forever  !  " 

The  King  and  Queen  were  glad  when  at  last  the  day  was 
ended. 


XXII 

Johannes  and  Marjon  both  held  out  bravely  until  night, 
doing  their  daily  work  as  well  as  they  could,  and  telling 
briefly,  to  the  few  faithful  friends  of  Markus,  what  had  oc- 
curred. 

But  when  the  lonesome  night  was  come,  and  they  were  about 
to  part  for  several  hours,  Johannes  said: 

"No,  do  not  go  away  from  me!  How  can  I  endure  it  — 
alone  with  my  thoughts  —  without  you!" 

They  were  in  the  little  kitchen  where  Marjon  slept.  A 
small  lamp,  without  a  shade,  stood  burning  on  the  table  be- 
side an  untidy  coffee-set. 

When  Johannes  said  this,  Marjon  looked  at  him  with 
puzzled,  half-closed  eyes,  as  if  she  did  not  understand  and 
was  trying  to  think  it  out.  Then  she  threw  herself  forward 
upon  her  pillow,  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  began  to  cry 
piteously. 

At  that  Johannes  also  broke  down,  and  kneeling  beside 
her  poor,  rickety  little  iron  bed,  he  cried  with  her  like  one  in 
desperation. 

Then  said  Johannes:  "What  shall  we  do  without  him, 
Marjon  ?" 

Marjon  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  he  said  he  should  soon  go  away 
from  us  .?" 

"If  only  I  could  nurse  him,"  she  said. 

"Is  he  going  to  die?"  asked  Johannes. 

"He  can  die  as  well  as  we.     Is  he  not  flesh  and  blood  ?" 

"He  will  never  really  die,  though." 

"Nor  will  we,  Jo.  But  what  does  that  avail  us  .f*  I  can't 
do  without  him." 

And  she  sobbed  again,  hopelessly. 

476 


THEQUEST  477 

"Perhaps  it  is  not  so  had,"  said  Johannes.  "We  will  call 
in  the  morning,  and  they  surely  will  let  us  see  him." 

And  so  they  talked  on  for  a  time.     Then  Johannes  said: 

"Let  me  stay  with  you,  Marjon.  It  really  seems  as  if 
I  never  again  could  go  away  from  you." 

Marjon  looked  at  him  through  her  tears,  and  even  smiled. 

"  But,  Jo,  we  cannot  do  as  we  used  to.  We  are  no  longer 
children.     I  am  already  eighteen,  and  are  you  not  that  also  ?" 

"Then  let  us  become  husband  and  wife,  so  that  we  can 
remain  together,"  said  Johannes. 

"Then  you  no  longer  love  that  other  one  more  than  me  ?" 

"I  think  not,  Marjon;  for  she  would  understand  nothing 
of  this,  and  certainly  would  not  join  us  in  our  sorrow." 

"But,  dear  boy,  we  are  far  too  young  to  become  husband 
and  wife." 

"I  do  not  understand,  Marjon.  First  you  find  us  too  old 
to  stay  together,  and  then  you  find  us  too  young.  And  yet  I 
want  to  remain  with  you.     How  can  it  be  done.^" 

"Listen,  Jo.  Formerly  you  said  to  me,  'No  foolishness,' 
and  that  hurt  me  for  I  cared  much  more  for  you  than  you 
did  for  me.     Why  were  you  never  more  kind  to  me  then  ? " 

"  Because  I  was  forced  to  remember  that  ugly,  dark  woman, 
your  sister.     I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  her." 

Marjon  reflected  a  while,  and  then  said: 

"But  that  is  no  reason  for  you  to  be  hard  toward  me,  Jo. 
I  am  not  low,  like  her." 

Johannes  was  silent.     Then  she  resumed: 

"But  then  I  know  what,  Jo:  you  may  stay  here.  But 
now  /  shall  say  'No  foolishness,'  and  remain  unyielding  until 
you  shall  have  forgotten  that  ugly  woman.     Will  that  do  f" 

"Yes,  Marjon,"  replied  Johannes.  Then  a  pillow  and 
some  covering  were  given  him,  and  he  lay  on  the  hard  floor  of 
the  little  kitchen  the  entire  night.  And  now  and  then,  as  one 
of  them  became  aware  that  the  other  was  still  awake,  they 
would  talk  together,  softly,  about  their  poor  friend,  each 
trying  to  comfort  the  other. 


478  THEQUEST 

And  thus  it  happened,  as  I  told  you  it  would,  that,  before 
the  ending  of  the  book,  they  became  husband  and  wife. 

But  when  Johannes  forgot  the  ugly,  dark  woman  Mar- 
jon's  sister  I  do  not  tell  you;  for  that  does  not  concern 
others. 


XXIII 

The  humble  little  kitchen,  in  the  first  pale,  glimmering  light 
that  passed  through  the  unwashed,  uncurtained  window; 
two  rush-bottomed  chairs;  the  unpainted  table  with  the  oil- 
lamp  and  the  untidy  cofFee-set;  Marjon's  narrow  iron  bed, 
which  quaked  if  she  merely  stirred;  her  breathing,  now  deep 
and  regular,  for  at  last  she  slept;  the  first  chirping  of  the  spar- 
rows out-of-doors;  continually  before  Johannes'  mental  vision 
the  pale  face  of  his  kind  Brother,  befouled  with  blood  and 
ashes;  in  his  ears  the  powerful  voice  resounding  through  the 
arches  of  the  church;  the  howling  of  the  mob;  and  then  — 
his  own  body,  stiff  and  sore,  on  the  hard,  wooden  boards.  .  .  . 

Then,  all  at  once,  light!  Bright,  golden  sunlight,  a  mild, 
refreshingly  fragrant  air,  all  pain  away,  an  elastic,  feather- 
Hght  body  —  and  the  majestic  sound  of  the  sea. 

Where  was  he  ?     Where  —  where! 

Oh,  he  knew;  he  felt  in  himself  where  he  was. 

He  recognized  the  feeling  of  self-consciousness,  although 
he  had  not  recalled  his  surroundings. 

But  he  heard  the  ocean  —  heard  it  roaring  grandly  as  only 
it  roars  on  a  level,  sandy  coast;  and  he  heard  the  whistling  of 
wind  in  the  rushes.  And  he  watched  the  play  of  the 
grey-green  waves  as  they  came  rolling  in  —  their  long  lines  of 
shining  breakers  crested  with  combing  white,  dashing  and 
splashing  and  foaming  over  the  flat  stretches  of  sand. 

He  had  seen  it  all  for  years,  and  every  day  it  was  the  same, 
from  age  to  age. 

And  when  he  glanced  round  to  see  if  his  little  friend  Wistik, 
whom  he  hoped  to  find,  was  also  here,  he  saw,  close  beside  him, 
a  bright  little  figure  sitting  quite  still  and  gazing  out  over  the 
sea. 

It  was  not  Wistik.     No,  for  this  one  had  the  large,  gauzy 

479 


48o  THEQUEST 

wings  of  a  dragon-fly,  and  a  little  mantle  of  delicate  blue  wav- 
ing gently  in  the  sea-breeze. 

"Windekind!"  exclaimed  Johannes. 

Then  the  bright  being  looked  at  him,  and  he  recognized  the 
dear,  enigmatical  eyes,  and  the  exquisite  hair  —  a  bloom-like 
blonde  like  the  mere  sheen  of  gold  —  with  its  flower-crown  of 
green  and  white. 

"Here  we  are  again,"  said  Windekind. 

"Then  did  you  not  die  with  Father  Pan  ?"  asked  Johannes, 
in  astonishment. 

"I  live  forever,"  said  Windekind. 

Johannes  thought  this  over.  He  was  tranquil  again,  as 
he  always  was  here.  Life,  so  rude  and  painful,  seemed  now 
very  far  away.  He  felt  only  calmness  and  contentment,  al- 
though he  well  knew  that  his  body  still  lay  on  the  hard  floor. 

Then  he  asked,  "Does  not  that  bore  you.^*" 

Windekind  laughed,  and  held  out  in  front  of  him  his  flower, 
which  he  used  as  a  staff.  It  was  not  an  iris,  but  a  strange, 
splendid  blossom  —  a  lily  or  an  orchid  —  blue,  striped  with 
white  and  gold. 

"Silly  boy!"  said  he.  "To  be  bored  is  to  be  no  longer  able 
to  enjoy  anything.  I  am  not  a  human  being,  that  gets  bored 
after  a  few  years.     I  am  not  weary  of  happiness." 

"Never?"  asked  Johannes. 

"That  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Windekind;  "but  not 
yet.  If  life  were  to  bore  me,  then  I  should  die  and  return 
to  my  Father.     He  can  never  grow  weary." 

"And  have  you  grown  still  wiser.''" 

Windekind  looked  tenderly  and  very  seriously  at  Johannes. 

"Do  you  see  my  flower.^"  he  asked.  "This  is  not  my  old 
iris.  This  is  much  more  beautiful.  Oh,  Mother  Earth  is 
greatly  changed;  and  so  am  I." 

Johannes  looked  about  him.  But  everything  appeared  as 
before:  the  long  lines  of  delicate  green  dunes;  the  sky,  all 
mottled  with  white  clouds;  the  graceful  sea-gulls  rocking  in 
the  wind,  with  their  cry  of  grand  and  lonely  liberty.     But  on 


THEQUEST  481 

the  water  not  a  sail  was  to  be  seen,  nor  on  the  strand  a  per- 
son. 

"How  good  it  is  to  see  you  again,"  said  Johannes.  "I 
have  been  so  sorry  about  Father  Pan.  And  now  I  am  very 
anxious  about  my  poor  Brother." 

But  as  Johannes  said  this  he  felt  quite  calm  and  peaceful; 
and  this  puzzled  him. 

Windekind  looked  at  him,  and  smiled  mysteriously. 

"That  was  a  long  time  ago,"  he  said. 

And  when  Johannes  gazed  at  him  in  amazement,  he  repeated: 

"Long  ago  —  quite  a  thousand  years." 

"A  thousand  years  V  murmured  Johannes,  mistrustfully. 

"Yes,  truly  a  thousand  years,"  said  Windekind,  positively. 
"I  have  grown  old,  although  you  cannot  see  it  in  me.  But  the 
longer  those  of  my  race  live,  the  younger  they  grow,  in  nature 
and  appearance.  Learn  that  yourself,  Johannes  —  it  is  well 
to.  I  have  grown  stronger  with  the  centuries,  and  more 
elastic  —  wiser  and  more  loving.  That's  the  way.  I  have 
not  now  an  enemy  upon  earth.  I  have  made  up  with  that 
small  goblin  Wistik.     He  is  a  right  good  fellow,  after  all." 

"Is  he  not?"  exclaimed  Johannes,  delighted.  "I  too  have 
noticed  that." 

"Yes,"  said  Windekind,  "when  he  has  a  leader.  I  have 
also  become  reconciled  to  human  beings." 

"Oh,  splendid,  splendid!"  cried  Johannes.  "I  know  who 
has  done  that!" 

"Right!"  said  Windekind,  nodding.  "Your  good  Brother 
did  it." 

Then  Johannes  saw  great  numbers  of  sea-gulls  flocking 
together  from  all  sides,  wheeling  and  screaming  because  of 
something  in  the  distance  that  was  drawing  nearer  from  out 
over  the  sea.  It  was  like  a  large  bird  soaring  on  vast,  silently 
outspread  wings.  The  fierce  sunlight  fell  upon  it,  making 
it  flash  like  burnished  gold,  or  like  some  shining  metal.  As 
it  came  nearer  Johannes  saw  that  it  had  the  pretty  colors  of  a 


482  THEQUEST 

swallow,  steel-blue,  brown  and  white,  but  with  gilded  beak 
and  claws,  and  that  long,  variegated  feathers,  or  ribbons, 
were  streaming  out  behind,  because  of  its  rapid  flight.  The 
exquisite  white  of  the  circling,  screaming  sea-gulls  was  in 
sharp  contrast  with  the  huge,  dark-colored  hulk.  A  soft, 
clear  sound  came  from  above,  as  of  clinking  glass  attuned 
like  bells. 

"What  is  that  immense  creature.^"  asked  Johannes;  for 
the  shadow  of  it  moved  over  the  sea  like  that  of  a  cloud. 

"That  is  not  a  creature,"  replied  Windekind.  "There  are 
human  beings  in  it,  but  they  are  not  at  all  ugly  now,  nor 
ridiculous.     Only  look!" 

And  Johannes  saw,  from  its  immobility,  that  it  was  not  a 
bird,  but  a  colossal  air-ship  in  the  form  of  a  bird.  And  also 
he  could  see,  clearly,  that  lightly  dressed  figures  were  moving 
to  and  fro  along  the  decks,  tossing  crumbs  to  the  sea-gulls 
that,  fluttering,  and  crying  caught  them  up. 

Then  the  great  shining  wings  altered  their  course,  and  with 
a  graceful  movement  the  colossus  dipped  gently  downward, 
skimming  the  level  sandy  beach  for  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
yards. 

At  last  it  was  still,  and  Johannes  could  admire  the  splendid 
structure:  the  glittering  gold,  the  gleaming  steel-blue  decora- 
tions, and  the  bright-hued  banners  and  pennants  with  gold- 
lettered  mottoes  that  fluttered  in  the  breeze. 

"Climb  up,"  cried  Windekind,  "it  is  going  away  again. 
It  will  not  stay  a  great  while." 

"Are  you  going  along?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Yes,"  replied  Windekind.  "I  am  at  home  with  these 
people.  But  remember  they  cannot  see  us  yet,  any  more 
than  could  those  a  thousand  years  ago.  They  are  still  only 
human  beings." 

Johannes,  his  hand  in  Windckind's,  floated  up  to  the  air- 
ship, and  nestled  in  the  golden  crown  upon  the  head  of  the  bird. 
Secluded  there,  they  could  see  what  the  people  were  doing. 

The  people  were  strong  and  handsome,  like  those  in  the 


THE    QUEST  483 

realms  of  Father  Pan;  but  their  hair  was  darker,  and  their 
faces,  with  thoughtful  eyes,  were  more  earnest.  And  they 
all  resembled  Johannes'  Brother  —  as  if  they  were  all  one 
large  family,  and  akin  to  him. 

The  garments  of  all  of  them  were  much  alike  —  exceed- 
ingly simple.  They  were  of  unfigured  material,  similar  to 
linen,  with  the  pretty,  sober  coloring  of  some  birds  —  the  wood- 
dove  and  the  peregrine;  and  all  were  bordered  with  fine, 
bright-colored  embroidery.  Almost  without  exception  the 
passengers  carried  flowers.  And  festoons  of  flowers  hung  in 
every  part  of  the  ship;  but  these  were  wilted,  and  diff^used 
the  sweet,  keen  fragrance  of  roses. 

All  went  with  heads  uncovered,  and  their  waving  hair  was 
thick,  but  not  long.  There  was  little  to  distinguish  the  dress 
of  the  men  from  that  of  the  women;  but  the  men  all  wore  full 
beards,  and  the  women  braids  of  hair  wound  about  their 
heads. 

Now,  leaving  their  vessel  for  a  short  time,  they  raced  along 
the  beach,  laughing  merrily,  and  glad  of  the  exercise.  Jo- 
hannes saw  that  they  wore  sandals  —  just  like  the  man  in 
brown  at  Roodhuis';  and  he  had  to  laugh  at  the  recollection. 
The  younger  ones  were  barefooted. 

After  they  had  bathed  and  played,  they  climbed  into  the 
ship  again;  and,  taking  their  places,  all  facing  the  sea,  they 
sang  a  song.  Although  Johannes  did  not  understand  the 
words,  he  knew  the  meaning  of  them.  It  sounded  like  a 
psalm,  but  was  more  fine  and  earnest  than  any  he  had  ever 
heard. 

"That  is  the  song  of  thanks  they  always  sing  after  a  safe 
passage  over  the  great  water,"  said  Windekind.  "Yes,  they 
mean  it,  for  they  all  know  the  Father.  See  how  they  mean 
it." 

And  Johannes  saw  the  deep  emotion  in  their  earnest  faces, 
and  the  tears  that  glistened  beneath  the  eyes  of  the  younger 
women.  And  he  heard  the  quiver  of  feeling  in  their  full,  pure 
voices. 


484  THEQUEST 

Then  the  magnificent  great  bird,  with  a  strange  clatter  of 
unfolding  wings,  with  the  whirring  of  unseen  wheels,  and  the 
klink-klank  of  glass  bells,  rose  slowly,  and  pointed  its  golden 
beak  and  its  fixed,  crystal  eyes  toward  the  land. 

"But  how  does  it  move?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Could  you  have  explained  to  your  forefathers  how  an 
electric  vehicle  of  your  own  time  was  propelled?"  asked 
Windekind.  "Then  do  not  ask  that  question,  but  rather, 
take  a  look  at  your  native  country,  and  see  how  beautiful  it 
has  become." 

The  long  line  of  coast  was  visible  as  they  ascended,  and 
Johannes  could  see  extending  into  the  ocean  at  regular  dis- 
tances great  dikes  of  dark-grey  stone,  over  which  the  white 
foam  of  the  waves  was  splashing  . 

"They  are  not  handsome,  but  necessary,"  said  Windekind. 
"But  here  are  our  dunes." 

And  behold!  They  were  as  fair  and  free  as  in  the  olden 
days  —  a  wide,  open  wilderness  without  hedge  or  fence,  with- 
out shavings  or  paper.  The  hollows  were  full  of  little  green 
groves;  and  there  the  white  hawthorn  blossomed,  and  the 
singing  of  hundreds  of  nightingales  ascended  to  their  high 
position.  Johannes  saw,  as  of  old,  the  little  white  tails  of 
thousands  of  rabbits,  flipping  over  the  grey-green  stretches  of 
moss.  And  also  he  saw  people  — sometimes  by  twos  or  threes, 
then  in  large  groups.  But  they  did  not  disturb  the  harmony 
of  the  peaceful  scene,  and  their  delicate  grey,  soft  brown,  and 
subdued  green  clothing  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  tender 
tints  of  the  landscape. 

After  that  came  the  verdant  country.  And  how  excited 
Johannes  was  when,  in  his  flight,  he  saw  it  looking  like  one 
great,  flowery,  tree-filled  park! 

The  bright  green  fields  were  there,  the  straight  ditches  and 
canals;  but  everywhere  were  trees.  Sometimes  they  stood 
alone  —  mighty  giants  casting  broad  shadows;  sometimes  in 
great  forests,  each  one  vast  expanse  of  foliage,  cool  and 
rustling,  where  the  wood-doves  cooed,  and  golden  thrushes 


THEQUEST  485 

whistled.  Gorgeous  blossoms  and  thickly  flowered  shrubs, 
such  as  Johannes  had  seen  only  in  gardens,  were  everywhere 
—  growing  wild  in  such  masses  that,  from  above,  they  some- 
times looked  like  carpets  of  glowing  red  or  deepest  blue. 

And  the  small  white  houses  of  the  people,  looking  as  if 
some  giant  had  sawed  them  out  with  supple  hand,  were  dotted 
about  in  the  midst  of  the  verdure  and  flowers.  But  on  the 
borders  of  the  water,  by  lakes  and  rivers  and  canals,  were 
they  strewn  most  thickly.  The  shining  blue  waters  appeared 
to  be  the  magnet  which  had  attracted  the  little  square  blocks. 

"You  see,  indeed,  Johannes,"  said  Windekind,  "it  was  their 
own  fault  that  human  beings  seemed  out  of  place  in  Nature. 
They  had  no  reverence  for  her,  and  harmed  her  in  their  stupid- 
ity. They  have  now  learned  from  Nature  how  beautiful  and 
like  unto  her  they  themselves  may  be,  and  they  have  made 
friends  with  her.  They  have  taught  their  children,  from  their 
earliest  infancy,  to  do  no  needless  damage  to  flower  or  leaf, 
and  to  kill  no  creature  ruthlessly;  taught  them  also  to  desire 
to  be  worthy  of  their  place  in  the  midst  of  all  those  beautiful 
and  charming  objects.  Sacred  reverence  for  all  that  is  beauti- 
ful, and  for  everything  that  has  life,  is  now  strictly  enjoined. 
Thus  is  peace  preserved  between  man  and  Nature,  and  they 
live  in  intimate  relations,  neither  annoying  the  other." 

"But,  Windekind,  where  are  the  cities?  I  see  only  scat- 
tered houses  and  churches.  And  where  are  the  iron  railways 
and  their  sooty  stations  ?  And  where  are  the  factories,  with 
their  tall  chimneys  and  dirty  smoke  ?" 

"My  dear  Johannes,  ought  ugly  things  to  be  retained  any 
longer  than  extreme  need  for  them  demands  ?" 

"Are  not,  then,  railroads  and  cities  and  factories  neces- 
sities ?" 

"There  are  still  factories,  but  they  do  not  have  to  be  ugly. 
There  they  are  —  finer  than  many  palaces  of  a  thousand  years 
ago.  And  why  tracks  of  iron,  when  the  broad  ways  of  the  air 
are  open  and  free  to  all  ?  And  why  swarm  in  cramped  quar- 
ters, high  over  one  another,  so  long  as  there  is  dwelling-room 


486  THEQUEST 

amid  the  flowers  and  the  verdure  ?  Men  were  not  so  stupid 
but  that  they  found  a  way  to  dispense  with  all  that  ugHness, 
and  to  drive  their  engines  without  the  burning  of  dusty,  deeply 
buried  coal.     But  still  some  roads  remain.     Look!" 

And  Johannes  saw  that  all  the  dwellings  were  connected  by 
roads  —  some  of  them  fourfold  and  broad,  of  a  dark  russet 
color;  others  like  narrow  white  ribbons  winding  through  the 
grass  from  house  to  house.  And  people  were  passing  over 
them,  afoot,  or  in  small,  swiftly  moving  vehicles. 

"It  is  a  holiday,"  said  Windekind.  "Such  days  are  now 
really  happy  and  holy  days,  without  the  deadly  dreariness  of 
the  former  ones." 

Everywhere  Johannes  saw  little  churches  having  pointed 
spires  in  the  old  Dutch  style;  but  now  they  were  full  of 
statuary  and  ornament.  The  doors  stood  open,  and  people 
were  passing  through.  And  now  Johannes  heard  the  sound 
of  music  coming  out  of  those  little  churches  —  as  pure  and  as 
fine  as  the  best  he  had  ever  heard. 

"Oh,  Windekind,  how  I  should  love  to  go  in  and  listen  to 
that  splendid  music!     I  do  so  want  to,"  said  Johannes. 

But  Windekind  put  his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  said: 

"Hush!  We  are  going  to  hear  still  better.  Our  voyagers 
are  going  to  a  much  larger  church,  where  most  beautiful  music 
can  be  heard.  They  are  pilgrims,  such  as  go  from  all  coun- 
tries every  year,  at  this  time,  to  celebrate  the  great  festival." 

"  Do  I  not  see  another  air-ship,  Windekind  ?  And  there  — 
still  another.?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Yes;  perhaps,  indeed,  one  maybe  going  along  with  us," 
said  Windekind.     "That  will  make  it  lively." 

And  very  soon  there  actually  came  a  second  air-ship  —  a  big 
brother-bird,  that  flew  up  to  them.  Then  the  flags  dipped, 
and  wide  dark-blue  banners,  bearing  silver-lettered  mottoes, 
were  unfurled  to  the  breeze.  The  people  waved,  and  shouted 
aloud.  And  when  the  twin  birds  were  so  close  together  that 
the  tips  of  their  great  bright  wings  nearly  touched,  the  people 


THE    QUEST  487 

on  Johannes'  ship  struck  up  an  anthem  —  a  full  and  powerful 
song  —  that  was  immediately  responded  to  by  an  antistrophe 
from  the  other  ship.  And  thus  they  took  turns,  first  one,  then 
the  other,  for  quite  a  time. 

Johannes'  heart  was  warmed  by  this  sweet  understanding 
among  peoples  wholly  unknown  to  one  another. 

"Do  all  men  now  speak  the  same  language  ?"  he  asked  his 
friend. 

"Do  you  not  hear  what  they  are  singing  ?  All  people  have 
chosen  that  language  as  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  nat- 
ural.    It  is  Greek." 

"I  do  not  know  Greek,"  said  Johannes,  regretfully. 

"But  just  look  at  that  pennant,  then,  on  the  other  ship. 
What  does  it  say?" 

"That  is  Dutch,  Windekind  —  ordinary  Dutch,"  cried 
Johannes.  And  he  read:  '^ There  is  no  Death,"  and  "GlaJ- 
ness  only  endures."  And  he  also  read  the  name  of  the  ship, 
"The  Heron." 

Then  his  own  ship  dropped  down  again,  upon  a  level 
meadow  close  beside  some  large  buildings  of  grey  freestone, 
charmingly  sculptured,  and  there,  for  some  mysterious  reason, 
the  vessel  lay  a  long  while  —  to  get  up  power,  thought  Johan- 
nes. And  the  pilgrims  took  advantage  of  the  delay  to  dance 
over  the  meadows  with  graceful  steps,  and  also  to  replace  with 
fresh  flowers  the  wilted  festoons. 

Then  they  rose  again,  and  whizzed  through  the  still,  summer 
air  toward  the  south.  Johannes  noticed  that  not  much  more 
than  half  the  land  was  devoted  to  field  and  orchard  and  vege- 
table-garden, and  that  all  the  rest  was  forest  and  park  and 
flower-garden;  that  there  were  no  hedges  nor  fences,  nor  any 
walls,  except  those  against  which  grapes  and  peaches  were 
growing.  He  did  indeed  still  see  brown  and  white  sails  on 
lake  and  river  —  that  beautiful  and  ever  charming  spectacle 
—  but  there  were  no  more  of  the  tall  four-armed  windmills. 
And  that  was  a  pity. 

"One  cannot  demand  everything,"  said  Windekind. 


488  THEQUEST 

Johannes  saw  colossal  wheels,  like  anchored  paddle-wheels, 
glistening  in  the  sunlight  —  turning  constantly,  and  moved 
by  some  mysterious  force.  That  certainly  was  better  than 
smoking  chimneys. 

And  nowhere  was  it  dirty,  nowhere  was  there  wan  poverty, 
nowhere  the  deathly  ugliness  and  monotonous  melancholy  of 
the  cities.  He  saw  no  ragged  nor  wretched  people,  no  un- 
sightly regions  of  refuse  and  lumber.  In  the  places  where 
he  knew  the  cities  to  have  been,  there  were  now  verdant 
tracts  vocal  with  the  songs  of  birds,  and  fruitful,  well-tilled 
fields  and  gardens. 

"The  housekeeping  of  the  world  is  revolutionized,  dear 
Johannes,"  said  Windekind.  "It  lasted  quite  a  while,  and 
cost  considerable  bickering;  but  that  is  all  over  now,  and  every- 
thing is  according  to  method.     I  myself  take  real   pleasure 

•    >> 
m  It. 

And  from  his  golden  seat  he  gazed  over  the  country,  like  a 
tiny  pretty  king,  who,  proud  and  well-satisfied,  rules  his  do- 
main with  a  floral  sceptre. 

"Watch,  now:  we  are  going  higher.  We  have  to  fly  over  the 
mountains." 

And  the  ship  rose  until  the  people  below  were  no  longer 
visible,  and  at  last  even  the  houses  disappeared.  It  grew  chilly 
as  they  cut  through  the  white  mists  of  the  great  clouds;  and, 
as  of  old,  Windekind  threw  his  little  blue  mantle  about  Jo- 
hannes. Thus  they  went  on  for  hours,  in  fog  and  mist,  and 
the  mighty  vessel  quivered  with  the  speed  of  its  flight.  The 
voyagers  were  still,  and  stayed,  snug  and  safe,  inside.  On 
they  rushed,  through  rain  and  through  snow,  catching  occa- 
sional glimpses  of  wide  tempestuous  landscapes,  with  green 
fields,  foaming  rivers,  snow-capped  mountains,  glaciers,  and 
lakes  of  gleaming  blue. 

"Is  the  whole  world  as  beautiful  now,  and  as  well  cared  for, 
as  my  own  country?"  asked  Johannes. 

"The  work  of  men  is  never  complete,"  replied  Windekind, 
"and  that  is  good  for  them,  else  they  would  become  too  pioud. 


THE    QUEST  489 

Asia  and  Africa  are  a  long  way  yet  from  being  in  trim,  possibly 
they  never  will  be.  But  then  it  is  all  very  well  as  it  is  —  very 
well.     A  thousand  years  ago  one  could  not  have  said  that." 

How  long  they  had  been  speeding  thus,  Johannes  could  not 
say.  It  seemed  to  him  many  hours.  Then  the  great  billows 
of  cloud  grew  more  and  more  transparent,  and  again  the  green 
land  beneath  them  became  visible,  and  also  a  deep,  deep  blue 
sea. 

"Is  it  Italy?"  asked  Johannes.  Windekind  nodded,  and 
Johannes  hoped  they  would  stay  still  a  while  so  that  he  might 
see  the  beautiful  country  of  which  the  priest  had  told  him. 
Then  the  ship  descended  until  people  and  houses  could  again 
be  distinguished,  and  Johannes  saw  a  scene  so  grand,  so  rich, 
so  overwhelming,  that  he  was  startled  and  almost  speechless. 
He  could  only  say,  thinking  of  Marjon,  "Oh,  how  shall  I  de- 
scribe all  this  ?" 

For  the  scene  was  exhibited  with  a  fulness  and  variety  that 
left  no  time  for  close  observation.  It  was  a  landscape  and  a 
world-city  in  one  —  an  extraordinary  valley,  down  which  the 
vessel  now  drifted,  full  of  trees,  verdure,  flowers,  buildings, 
statues,  and  people.  Just  before  him  he  saw  a  gigantic  azalea- 
tree  covered  with  red  flowers;  farther  on,  a  long  arcade,  over- 
grown with  ivy,  extending  down  to  the  foot  of  the  vale. 
Then  a  temple  with  tall,  slender,  white  pillars,  also  overgrown 
with  ivy.  In  the  middle  of  the  valley  stood  a  colossal  piece  of 
sculpture  —  simply  a  head.  Johannes  saw  the  sun  shining 
upon  it.  And  farther  on  there  were  structures  unending,  and 
thousands  and  thousands  of  people.  Altogether,  it  gave  him 
an  impression  of  happiness  and  of  beauty  indescribable. 
Johannes  could  only  cry,  "How  splendid!  How  splendid!" 
doing  his  utmost  to  take  in  everything,  that  he  might  remem- 
ber and  describe  it  to  Marjon.  But  he  felt  that  it  would  be 
beyond  his  powers,  and  so  deeply  moved  was  he  by  the  beauty 
of  the  scene  that  he  cried  out,  "It  is  too  glorious!     I  cannot 


490  THE    QUEST 

bear  it!"  And  he  wondered  if  the  ship  was  going  to  stop 
there. 

It  did  not  stop,  but  floated  farther  on  —  not  far  now  from 
the  ground  —  and  followed  the  rocky  coast.  Johannes  re- 
membered the  red  rocks  and  the  coast  where  he  and  Wistik 
had  sat  when  the  Devil  appeared.  This  country,  also,  looked 
well-tilled  and  inhabited,  after  the  manner  of  his  own  coun- 
try. 

Then  they  put  out  again,  over  the  blue,  deep  sea,  and  ob- 
served how  it  was  navigated  by  large,  swift  vessels,  without 
either  sail  or  steam.  They  seemed  to  glide  over  the  water  as 
sledges  over  the  snow,  and  the  white  foam  flew  high  up  over 
the  bows. 

Then  after  a  long  voyage  there  loomed  from  the  sea,  like  a 
violet  shadow,  a  large  island;  and,  although  it  was  broad  day- 
light, it  seemed  as  if  above  that  island  a  bright  yellow-white 
star  were  sparkling. 

"That  is  our  goal,"  said  Windekind.  "Take  heed,  now, 
you  are  going  to  see  something  fine." 

And  when  they  came  nearer,  Johannes  could  not  tell  what 
it  was:  whether  the  island  was  Nature's  work,  or  some  marvel 
wrought  by  the  hand  of  man. 

For  that  whole  great  island,  that  from  a  distance  had  looked 
Hke  a  mountain,  appeared,  when  approached,  to  be  entirely 
covered  with  buildings  —  a  piling  up  of  pillars  and  roofs  that 
soared  one  above  another,  and  converged  to  an  awe-inspiring 
dome.  That  crowning  dome  sparkled  in  the  clear,  sunlit  air 
like  an  arrested  cloud  —  with  the  silvery,  light  green,  and  dark 
blue  splendor  of  a  glacier  covered  with  thousands  of  beauti- 
fully sculptured,  inverted  icicles;  and  upon  the  top  shone  the 
yellow-white  light  which,  even  in  broad  daylight,  seemed 
to  be  a  star. 

So  immense  and  so  numerous  were  the  structures,  that  one 
could  not  tell  what  the  natural  form  of  the  island  had  been, 
nor  what  had  been  made  by  human  hands. 


THEQUEST  491 

Coming  still  nearer,  one  could  see  green  masses  of  foliage 
filling  all  the  spaces  between  the  buildings,  up  to  the  very 
top.  The  whole  island  seemed  a  miracle  of  art  and  nature; 
of  columns  of  pure  white,  of  silver  and  silver-blue;  of  cupolas, 
bronze-green  or  golden;  while  amidst  them  all  was  the  dark 
green  of  the  dense  groves  and  the  shrubbery,  above  which  rose 
the  tufted  palms  on  their  slender,  slightly  curved  stems. 

"Oh,  Windekind,"  cried  Johannes,  '*is  this  a  story?" 

"This  is  a  story,"  said  Windekind,  "as  fine  as  any  I  ever 
told  you.  But  this  one  is  true.  Human  beings  first  heard  of 
it  through  me,  and  then  they  resolved  to  build  it  as  soon  as 
they  could  find  time,  and  housekeeping  was  systematized. 
It  could  have  been  somewhat  finer,  but  still  it  came  out  very 
nicely,  especially  when  you  reflect  that  they  have  had  merely 
a  hundred  years  in  which  to  work  out  the  plan;  considering, 
also,  that,  when  half  completed,  an  earthquake  destroyed  it." 

"What  is  it  that  glitters  on  that  high  dome  at  the  summit  of 
the  island?     It  looks  like  a  distant  star.     Is  it  fire?" 

"That  is  not  fire,  Johannes,  but  metal  —  a  golden  flame. 
It  is  a  piece  of  gilded  metal,  that  always  glows  in  the  sunlight 
as  if  it  were  burning.  By  means  of  that  flame  the  people  wish 
to  indicate  their  ardent  love." 

"Love  for  whom,  Windekind  —  for  one  another,  or  for 
God?" 

"They  know  no  difference,  Johannes,"  said  Windekind. 

With  radiant  faces  the  pilgrims  stood  gazing  at  the  spectacle; 
and,  shouting  their  joy,  they  sang  again.  Only  a  few  of  the 
older  ones  appeared  to  have  seen  the  island  before. 

The  sea  was  now  covered  with  large  white  vessels  speeding 
to  and  fro,  and  one  could  also  see  air-ships  flying  thither  from 
all  points  of  the  compass,  like  herons  to  their  nesting-place. 

Then  Johannes' vessel  settled  down  upon  a  great  grassy  plain 
close  to  the  shore,  and  the  pilgrims  alighted.  They  were  em- 
barrassed and  bewildered  now  by  all  that  surrounded  them  — 
by  the  multitude  of  air-ships,  and  also  by  the  people,  among 
whom  they  felt  shy  and  strange. 


492  THEOUEST 

Hundreds  of  these  ships  were  now  at  rest  —  a  briUiant  spec- 
tacle, all  differently  rigged  and  adorned,  and  patterned  after 
various  birds.  There  were  hawks  and  eagles, and  giant  beetles, 
entirely  of  bronze,  looking  like  gold.  There  were  moths 
of  green-reflecting  metal;  and  dragon-flies  with  wings  of  iri- 
descent glass;  wasps  with  bodies  ringed  with  black  and  yellow; 
butterflies  having  enormous  yellow  wings,  marked  with  pea- 
cock-eyes of  blue,  from  which  long  pennants,  black  and 
red,  streamed  out  behind. 

There  was  now  considerable  commotion  throughout  the 
grassy  plain,  among  those  who,  just  arrived,  were  trying  to 
find  their  way. 

On  the  coast,  around  the  whole  island,  was  an  almost  un- 
broken series  of  cool  terraces  beneath  white  colonnades  shaded 
by  the  light  lavender  flowers  of  the  glycine;  and  behind  them 
were  small,  white-stuccoed  recesses  overlooking  the  sea.  There 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pilgrims  who  annually  came 
to  the  feast  were  lodged  and  fed. 

Johannes  saw  them  sitting  at  long  tables  on  which  were 
bread,  fruit,  and  flowers.  And  above  the  sound  of  the  foam- 
ing surf,  as  the  crystalline  blue  water  broke  in  white  spray 
over  the  dull  red  rocks,  cheerful  talking  and  laughing  could 
be  heard,  and  also  the  music  of  guitars. 

Higher  up,  the  island  was  clear  and  open.  Here  were  sunny 
parks  with  low  flowering  shrubs,  and  now  and  then  a  tall  palm, 
and  everywhere  temples  and  buildings  for  various  purposes. 

With  his  hand  in  Windekind's,  Johannes  glided  over  this, 
unable  to  note  all  of  the  many  things  that  met  his  gaze.  He 
saw,  beneath  him,  close  to  the  shore,  large  arenas  for  the 
games  and  the  races;  also  long  buildings,  with  thousands  of 
columns,  for  the  display  of  useful  and  ingenious  articles  and 
implements. 

A  little  higher  were  gardens  with  plants  and  animals,  mu- 
seums, observatories,  immense  libraries,  and  covered  colon- 
nades and  assembly-rooms  for  scholars.  After  that  came 
theatres,     in      Hellenic     form  —  semicircular  —  with     white 


THEQUEST  493 

marble  seats.  And  every  place  was  thronged  with  people, 
in  their  tasteful,  charming  dress.  The  brown  and  the  yellow 
races  were  represented;  also  the  very  dark-colored  ones,  with 
their  flashing  eyes,  haughty  bearing,  and  vigorous  frames. 
These  wore  brightly-colored  silken  garments,  green  and  red, 
embroidered  with  gold;  but  all  who  were  white  or  fair  were 
soberly  clad  in  soft,  refined  colors. 

Still  higher  were  collections  of  statues,  marble  and  gilded 
—  many  of  them  outside  in  the  park,  among  the  flowers,  the 
aloes,  and  the  plashing  fountains;  others,  beneath  long  por- 
ticoes; and  in  large,  low  buildings  there  were  sketches  and 
paintings,  or  statuettes  wrought  in  metal  or  carved  in  wood. 

Finally,  still  higher  up  the  incline,  close  beside  the  great 
middle  temple  which  was  the  crown  of  the  island,  surrounded 
by  the  serious  silences  of  dark  laurel  and  myrtle  groves,  were 
the  temples  of  music. 

There  was  a  variety  of  them.  Some  were  lighter  and  more 
ornamental  —  of  brighter  stone,  and  with  steep,  golden  roofs; 
others,  massive  and  strong,  of  quiet  grey  limestone,  with 
green  and  red  granite  pillars,  and  arched  roofs  of  bronze. 

Windekind  pointed  out  that  each  temple  was  dedicated 
exclusively  to  one  composer;  and  Johannes  heard  with  joy 
names  that  were  well  known  to  him  in  his  own  day. 

"Which  one  shall  we  choose?"  asked  Windekind.  "No- 
where else  upon  earth  can  their  works  be  heard  as  in  any  one 
of  these  temples." 

While  he  hesitated,  with  the  name  Beethoven  on  his  lips, 
Johannes  saw  coming  over  the  grassy  path  between  the  rose- 
colored  flowering  oleanders,  a  group  of  five  majestic  persons. 
They  were  tall,  powerful  figures  —  four  men  and  a  woman. 
The  men  were  all  elderly,  one  of  them  having  silver-white,  the 
others  thick  grey  hair.  The  woman  was  younger,  and  in- 
describably noble  and  beautiful.  They  each  wore  a  mantle 
of  the  same  amaranthine  red,  and  upon  the  head  a  small 
wreath  of  green  myrtle,  and  each  one  held  a  flower. 

They  walked  slowly  and  with  dignity,  and  wherever  they 


494  THEQUEST 

went  the  people  all  greeted  them.  Those  who  had  been  chat- 
ting were  respectfully  silent;  those  sitting  or  lying  down  stood 
up;  and  those  who  were  in  their  path  hastily  stepped  aside. 

"Who  are  those  five  people,  Windekind.'" 

"They  are  the  five  kings.  Do  you  not  see  that  they  carry 
my  flower  in  their  hands  .?  It  is  the  blue,  white,  and  gold  Lily 
of  the  Kings,  which  the  people  have  evolved.  Formerly  it 
did  not  exist.  These  are  the  noblest,  wisest,  strongest,  the 
purest  and  most  worthy  among  human  beings.  In  them  are 
united,  in  most  perfect  harmony,  all  of  the  human  faculties. 
They  are  poets,  masters  of  speech,  and  sages,  that  purify  and 
elevate  morals.  They  are  regulators  of  labor,  directors  in  busi- 
ness, in  taste,  and  in  science.  Not  all  are  equally  excellent, 
nor  are  there  always  so  many.  The  best  are  sought  for  and 
elevated.  But  they  bear  no  rank  —  they  have  no  court,  no 
palace,  no  army,  no  realm.  Their  throne  is  where  they  seat 
themselves;  their  kingdom  is  the  whole  world.  Their  power 
consists  in  the  beauty  of  their  words,  in  their  wisdom,  and  in 
the  love  of  their  fellowmen.  See  how  they  are  revered!  Look 
at  those  adoring  women  —  doing  obeisance  as  ever.  There 
are  still  the  very  same  foolish  ones  among  the  young  women." 

And  Windekind  called  Johannes'  attention  to  the  fair  en- 
thusiasts who  attempted  not  only  to  kiss  the  hands  of  the  Five, 
but  also  to  touch  them  with  their  flowers,  which,  thereby  made 
sacred  as  relics,  were  later  to  be  cherished  as  mementoes.  But 
the  sages  smilingly  motioned  these  aside,  and  entered  the  largest 
of  the  music-temples  —  a  mighty  structure  of  smooth,  cream- 
white  marble,  without  ornament,  but  pure  in  line,  and  nobly 
harmonious  in  its  proportions.  It  was  round  in  form,  having 
a  bronze  roof  without  side-windows,  and  lighted  only  from 
above.  Over  the  entrance,  in  large  gold  letters,  was  the  name 
"  Bach."  *  When  the  Five  came  in  all  the  people  stood  up, 
and  waited  until  they  were  seated  in  the  chairs  reserved  for 
them. 

And  then  Johannes  heard  exceedingly  fine  music.  And 
Windekind  said,  "This  fountain  is  not  yet  exhausted,  nor  will 
it  be  for  ages  to  come." 

*  See  note,  page  520. 


THEQUEST  495 

When  they  were  again  out-of-doors,  and  Johannes  saw  the 
happiness  of  all  those  beautiful  people,  and  the  mood  of  solemn 
devotion  into  which  the  music  had  put  them,  he  suddenly 
became  depressed,  and  said:  "Oh,  Windekind,  now  that  I 
have  seen  all  this,  and  know  what  it  is  possible  for  people  to 
be  if  only  they  are  wise  and  good,  what  avails  it  all  when  I 
have  to  return  to  that  pitiful  land  of  ugliness  and  folly  and  in- 
justice ?  And,  alas,  of  what  advantage  is  it  to  all  those  poor 
people  who  are  perhaps  preparing  for  this  lovely  lite,  but  who 
yet  are  never  to  see  it  ?" 

Johannes  looked  imploringly  at  his  friend,  who  was  silently 
meditating  w^hile  they  slowly  drifted  still  higher  along  a  dense 
grove  of  dark  laurel,  through  which  the  happy,  high  spirited 
people  were  proceeding  to  the  great,  the  loftiest  temple. 

Said  Windekind:  "You  do  not  yet  comprehend  the  unity  of 
life,  Johannes.  However  beautiful  all  this  appears  to  you,  it  is 
only  a  short  step  in  advance.  These  are  yet,  and  will  continue 
to  be,  human  beings  —  subject  to  illness  and  death,  to  quarrels 
and  misunderstandings,  to  superstition  and  injustice.  All  that 
now  seems  to  you  elevated  and  marvelous  is  but  a  wisp  of 
straw  compared  with  the  magnificence  of  the  Father  to  whom 
we  all  return.  The  victory  is  not  here,  but  higher.  And 
whoever  has  made  preparation,  however  humble,  shall  have 
his  rightful  part  in  the  final  triumph." 

Johannes  did  not  fully  understand,  but  eagerly  drank  in  the 
comfort  of  these  mysterious  words.  Still  musing  upon  them, 
he  stepped  out  of  the  dark,  leafy  woods  upon  an  extraordinary 
plain,  and  saw  before  him  the  great  middle  temple  that  formed 
the  summit  of  the  island. 

The  sight  of  it  was  overwhelming,  for  it  was  almost  fright- 
fully and  oppressively  grand;  and  he  saw  all  the  oncoming 
people  stop,  as  though  turned  to  stone.  None  ventured  to 
speak  unless  in  whispers. 

The  plain  was  so  large  that  those  who  had  just  reached  the 
border  of  the  woods  could  not  distinguish  the  hands  nor  the 
heads  of  those  who  were  entering  the  temple.     The  plain  was 


496  THEOUEST 

utterly  bare  —  upon  it  was  neither  plant  nor  statue.  It  was 
the  leveled  top  of  the  natural  hkIc  —  a  reddish-grey  granite, 
smoothly  polished,  and  rising  gradually  by  low  flights  of  steps 
each  twelve  paces  wide  and  one  foot  high. 

The  base  of  the  temple  was  sombrely  grand.  Its  shape 
was  oblong,  the  greatest  length  being  from  north  to  south, 
showing  an  endless  series  of  massive  lotus-columns,  close  to- 
gether, and  all  of  the  same  reddish-grey  stone.  The  eye  was 
bewildered  by  them,  as  if  in  a  dark  forest  of  pillars.  The 
steady  stream  of  dot-like  human  forms  appeared  to  be  en- 
gulfed in  their  shade. 

These  mighty  columns,  resting  on  straight  and  flat  string- 
courses, supported  a  broad  terrace  that  surrounded  the  en- 
tire temple.  Upon  this  terrace  was  a  layer  of  earth,  whence 
sprang  a  luxuriant  growth  of  trees  and  shrubs,  wide-spread- 
ing sycamores,  towering  cypresses,  and  slender  palms  —  all 
overgrown  and  bound  together  by  a  veil  of  flowers  and  leafy 
vines. 

Then  succeeded,  higher  up,  a  second  series  of  pillars,  sup- 
porting another  terrace  covered  with  smaller  shrubs.  And 
above  that,  still  a  third,  whose  columns  were  of  brighter 
stone  —  light-green  and  grey.  The  topmost  row  was  of  pure 
white,  against  which  the  green  of  the  plants  was  in  clear 
relief. 

And  above  these,  delicate  and  daring,  soared  a  convergence 
of  groinings,  with  a  maze  of  exquisite  spires  and  pinnacles, 
resembling  a  forest  of  stalagmites.  Together  they  formed  an 
oval  whose  chief  colors  —  steel-blue,  dark  and  sparkling,  light- 
grey,  and  silver —  resembled  a  cloud  or  a  glacier;  yet  all  har- 
moniously fashioned  by  human  hands.  Above,  on  a  colossal 
tripod,  glowed  the  emblem  of  love  and  life  —  the  Golden 
Flame! 

Although  thousands  of  people  from  every  side  were  cease- 
lessly pouring  into  the  temple,  and  disappearing  amid  the 
dark  columns,  it  was  very  still  there  —  so  still  that  above  the 
sound  of  moving  feet  one  could  distinctly  hear  the  babbling  of 


THEQUEST  497 

the  brooks  that,  coursing  through  the  verdant  terraces,  flowed 
thence  to  the  four  corners  of  the  plain. 

Johannes  tried  to  follow  the  soft  speech  of  the  people,  but 
he  did  not  understand  the  language.  Then  Windekind,  call- 
ing his  attention  to  a  trio  of  persons  —  a  vigorous  father  about 
fifty  years  of  age,  and  his  two  sons,  slender,  fine  fellows 
not  far  from  twenty  —  said,  "Listen  to  them!"  It  was 
Dutch  they  were  speaking —  pure,  mellifluous  Dutch. 

The  father  said:  "Look,  Gerbrand;  the  lowest  columns  are 
so  large  that  ten  men  could  not  encircle  them.  But  within 
the  temple,  in  the  great  oval  centre,  there  are  a  hundred  col- 
umns, far  larger,  that  reach  to  the  floor  of  the  third 
terrace.  On  the  groined  arches  resting  upon  those  columns 
stand  twice  as  many  smaller  pillars,  which,  rising  somewhat 
higher  than  the  gallery  of  the  third  terrace,  are  attached 
thereto  by  a  system  of  buttresses.  On  these  tw^o  hundred 
smaller  pillars  rests  the  enormous  middle  dome  which  over- 
arches the  oval  hall.  The  dome  is  entirely  of  metal.  The 
dark  blue  is  steel;  the  grey,  aluminum;  the  bright  green, 
bronze.  The  pinnacles,  arches,  and  ornamentations  are  all 
of  silver  or  silver-plated  steel.  In  the  four  corner-spaces, 
between  square  and  oval,  stand  four  towers,  having  small 
gold-covered  cupolas.  Within  these,  elevators  move  up  and 
down,  and  through  them  the  water  also  is  raised  for  the  ter- 
races. 

"The  tall  tripod  at  the  top  of  the  dome  is  of  bronze,  and  the 
flame  is  gilded  bronze.  The  flame  itself  is  twelve  metres  long, 
and  its  tip  is  a  hundred  and  eighty  metres  above  the  plain." 

Gerbrand,  the  younger  son,  knitting  his  brows  as  he  re- 
garded the  awe-inspiring  spectacle,  asked:  "How  many 
people  have  worked  upon  it,  father.?" 

"Oh,  more  than  a  hundred  thousand,  for  nearly  a  century. 
But  if  the  temple  should  again  collapse,  as  once  it  did,  ten 
times  as  many  more  would  eagerly  come,  to  rebuild  it  in  less 
than  half  that  time." 

Drawing  nearer,   Johannes   discerned,  on  the  stone  band 


498  THEQUEST 

beneath  the  first  terrace,  colossal  silver  letters,  in  plain 
Roman  form.  On  the  front  a  portion  of  a  proverb  was  legi- 
ble. The  rest  of  it  probably  ran  around  the  entire  temple. 
Johannes  retained  the  majestic  tenor  of  it,  although  he  did  not 
comprehend  the  full  meaning.     Facing  him  was: 

REDEUNT  SATURNIA  REGNA 

and  on  the  eastern  side  he  read  the  first  words, 

lAM   NOVA   PROGENIES  .  .  . 

This  was  all  he  could  distinguish. 

They  entered  the  forest  of  columns,  and  Johannes  continued 
to  follow  the  trio  closely.  Through  the  solemn  semi-darkness 
all  pressed  gently  on  toward  the  steps  that  led  to  the  higher 
terraces. 

On  the  second  terrace  stood  thousands  of  statues,  repre- 
senting the  great  and  famous  of  all  the  ages.  Johannes  was 
delighted  to  hear  what  the  sons  and  their  father  said  about 
them.  They  seemed  best  acquainted  with  the  composers, 
then  with  the  dramatic  poets,  the  sculptors,  the  painters,  and 
the  scholars.  They  were  most  at  a  loss  concerning  the  states- 
men. 

Gerbrand  said,  "Here  is  a  warrior,  father — Bismarck  is 
his  name.     When  did  he  live,  and  what  did  he  do  .''" 

Then  the  father  said  to  his  elder  son,  "Do  you  not  know 
when  Bismarck  lived,  and  what  he  did,  Hugo?" 

Hugo  replied,  "I  think  he  lived  in  Bach's  time,  father; 
but  what  he  did  I  do  not  know." 

"Yes,  he  lived  about  the  time  of  Bach,  or  rather,  that  of 
Brahms.     He  created  the  German  Empire." 

Said  Gerbrand,  "The  German  Empire,  father!  Where 
is  that?" 

"There  is  no  longer  a  German  Empire,  Gerbrand,  although 
there  are  millions  of  Germans.  Such  empires  do  not  now 
exist;  but  in  that  day  they  were  thought  to  be  something 
very  admirable." 


THE    QUEST  499 

And  Hugo:  "Was  it  as  fine  as  the  Chromatic  Fantasie, 
father,  or  the  Pyramids?" 

"It  was  something  very  different,  my  boy,  but  certainly  not 
so  fine,  for  it  was  less  lasting." 

On  the  third  and  highest  terrace,  beneath  the  loftiest  of  the 
white  marble  columns,  and  running  around  the  entire  temple, 
was  a  frieze,  sculptured  in  bas-relief.  Upon  it  were  groups  of 
figures,  cut  with  most  wonderful  art,  giving  representative 
scenes  from  the  whole  history  of  mankind.  Among  them,  the 
spectacle  of  the  battles  held  the  youths  the  longest. 

"Look,  father!  Here  again  is  a  man  being  killed.  Why 
was  that?     What  harm  did  he  do?" 

"That  is  Pertinax,"  replied  the  father,  "a  king  of  Rome, 
killed  by  his  soldiers  because  he  was  just." 

"A  man  killed  for  being  just!  What  strange  people!"  said 
Hugo,  smiling. 

"They  killed  Socrates  also,  because  he  was  wise,  did  they 
not,  father  ?     We  saw  that  a  little  while  ago,"  said  Gerbrand. 

"Yes,  Gerbrand,"  said  Hugo;  "but  indeed  they  also  fought 
for  good  reasons,  did  they  not,  father  ?  Socrates  himself 
fought,  and  Sophocles." 

"And  ^schylus,"  added  the  father.  "He  lost  his  hand  at 
Marathon.     And  Dante  fought,  and  so  did  Byron." 

"Shelley  too,  father?"  asked  Hugo. 

"No,  my  boy." 

"But,  father,"  asked  Gerbrand,  "when  is  it  right  to  fight, 
and  when  is  it  not  ?" 

"It  is  right,  my  boys,  when  that  which  is  the  dearest  and 
most  sacred  must  be  protected  from  attack  —  whatever  is 
dearer  to  us  than  our  lives.  That  is  what  iEschylus  and 
Socrates  and  Dante  conceived  to  be  their  duty.  They  fought 
for  freedom  —  the  greatest  freedom  of  their  time.  And 
should  any  beings  come  now  and  try  to  attack  what  we 
term  our  liberty  and  our  rights,  we  also  would  fight  for 
them." 


500 


THE    QUEST 


"I  wish  that  would  happen,"  said  Gerbrand.  And  the 
others  laughed. 

"Did  Beethoven  fight,  father?"  asked  Hugo. 

"No,  although  his  life,  as  well  as  that  of  Shelle)',  was  a 
struggle  in  the  cause  of  true  liberty  —  at  least  for  what  he 
held  to  be  true  liberty." 

"But  Beethoven  wore  a  high,  black  hat,  did  he  not,  father  ? 
And  Bach  had  his  hair  cut  off,  and  wore  a  wig,"  said  Ger- 
brand. 

"Mozart  also,"  added  Hugo.  "I  do  not  understand  how 
kings  could  do  such  queer  things." 

"How  was  it  possible,"  exclaimed  Gerbrand,  "for  these 
people  in  their  high  hats  and  silly  black  clothes  to  look  at  one 
another  and  not  burst  out  laughing  ?" 

"My  dear  boys,"  said  the  father,  "there  is  not  a  thing  so 
foolish,  so  ugly,  or  so  bad,  but  even  the  best  of  men  will  do 
it,  or  tolerate  it,  if  only  many  take  part  in  it,  and  it  is  a  com- 
mon error  of  their  time.  But  that  was  a  very  queer  age.  At 
the  time  such  great  and  wise  kings  as  Goethe,  Shelley,  and 
Beethoven  lived,  ninety  out  of  every  hundred  men  lived  like 
the  very  beasts.     Some  never  bathed  their  entire  bodies.  .  . 

"Think  of  it!"  cried  the  youths. 

"They  wore  soiled,  hideous  clothing,  were  rude  and  ill- 
mannered,  and  had  no  conception  of  music  nor  of  poetry." 

"How  could  that  be  V  exclaimed  the  two  young  men. 

"Because  it  was  thought  that  the  best  human  living  was 
possible  for  only  an  occasional  exception  —  for  one  in  a  hun- 
dred, or  one  in  a  thousand.  You  think  that  very  stupid,  do 
you  not  ?     But  at  that  time  everybody  felt  so,  even  the  kings." 

"Not  Shelley,  though,"  exclaimed  Hugo. 

"No,  not  Shelley,"  said  the  father.  "But  it  is  now  nearly 
noon.  We  must  not  miss  the  Hall  of  the  Hundred  Pillars. 
We  agreed  to  go  there,  you  remember,  while  we  were  still  at 
home  with  mother  and  the  children." 

The  halls  were  decorated  with   inscriptions  in   many  Ian- 


THEQUEST  501 

guages  —  each  with  its  own  ornate  characters.  Johannes 
recognized  Sanskrit,  Chinese,  Arabic,  Hebrew,  and  Greek. 
He  could  read  only  a  few  of  the  sentences;  but  these  he  re- 
tained, without  understanding  them: 

"In  la  sua  volontade  e  nostra  pace,"  and  "mite  et 

COGNATUM    EST  HOMINI   DeUS." 

The  Hall  of  the  Hundred  Pillars  had  entrances  from  all 
sides,  on  the  same  level,  through  the  lowest  and  heaviest  col- 
onnades, and  also  along  stairways  descending  from  all  the 
terraces.  The  floor  of  the  hall  looked  like  a  vast,  snow- 
covered  plain,  so  white  was  the  marble,  and  the  astronomical 
figures  with  which  it  was  inlaid  were  all  of  silver.  The  hun- 
dred pillars  that  gave  the  hall  its  name  were  of  red  granite, 
and  supported  the  central  dome,  which,  spanning  the  im- 
posing space  by  arch  on  arch,  stood  like  a  miracle  of  art. 
There  were  no  windows,  but  the  light  streamed  in  through 
the  open  arches,  and  past  the  white  and  light  blue  pillarets  of 
the  dome.  Yet  it  was  not  possible,  from  below,  to  see  the 
sky. 

The  hall  was  already  filled  with  people  —  thousands  upon 
thousands.  Whispering  softly,  all  pressed  fonvard,  and  at 
last  stood  still  in  silent  expectation.  Johannes  followed  his 
fellow-countrymen. 

"Look,  boys,"  whispered  the  father,  "these  pillars  are  of 
one  piece  —  the  largest  stone  columns  in  the  world.  In  re- 
mote antiquity,  when,  also,  men  were  able  to  build  great 
structures,  there  were  two  like  them  in  Rome;  and  we  found 
another  one,  half  hewn,  on  the  coast  of  Corsica.  Then  we 
ourselves  made  ninety-seven  others,  and  placed  them  all  here, 
to  the  honor  of  God." 

"Father,"  whispered  Gerbrand,  "surely  we  are  now  the 
happiest  and  the  mightiest  beings  in  the  universe,  are  we 
not.?" 

But  the  father  looked  at  him  reprovingly,  and  said:  "For 
shame,  boy!  We  are  only  poor  blind  earth-worms,  and  all 
our  happiness  is  misery,  and  all  our  magnificence  is  a  sham, 


502  THEQUEST 

compared  with  the  splendor  of  the  Truth.  It  is  but  a  feeble 
glimmering  of  the  reality.  To  express  this,  we  come  hither 
yearly;  and  it  was  to  teach  you  this  that  I  brought  you  with 
me.     Look  up,  and  read  what  is  written  there." 

Johannes'  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  upraised  hand, 
and  he  saw  a  Greek  proverb  that  ran  around  the  dome  in 
colossal  letters  of  gold.  As  interpreted  by  the  father  of  the 
two  youths  it  read  thus:  "To  the  only  God,  who  alone 
IS  THE  Truth  and  the  real  Existence  —  our  Father, 
whom  we  love  with  all  our  hearts  and  all  our  un- 
derstanding, AND  FOR  WHOSE  SAKE  WE  LOVE  ONE  ANOTHER 
AS  WE   LOVE    OURSELVES." 

Then  the  man  showed  his  children  a  gold  figure,  at  the 
northern  end  of  the  hall,  at  which  the  eyes  of  all  the  people 
were  now  directed,  and  said: 

"Notice!  There  is  the  number  of  the  hour;  but  beneath, 
it  says:  '  There  is  tietther  hour  nor  time.'  Do  you  see?  Re- 
member that  as  long  as  you  live.  And  now  consider  why  we 
have  come  here  to-day.  For  a  few  moments  the  sun  stands 
at  the  summer  solstice  —  its  highest  point.  The  temple  is  sd 
built  that  just  at  that  instant  the  sun's  light  comes  through 
the  opening  in  the  dome  and  touches  the  golden  figure  of  the 
hour.  Then  all  of  us  —  thousands  on  thousands  from  every 
region  of  the  world  —  will  again  in  song  solemnly  pledge  our- 
selves to  faithful  love  toward  one  another,  and  toward  the 
Father  of  us  all." 

After  this  the  boys  were  silent,  gazing  with  all  the  people  at 
the  golden  figure.  And  now  that  innumerable  throng,  in  the 
whole,  vast  space,  became  as  still  as  death  —  as  still  as  some 
great  forest  before  a  storm,  when  not  a  leaf  stirs. 

Then,  in  mighty,  resounding  tones,  a  great  bell  began  to 
strike  the  hour;  while  the  people,  all  in  the  utmost  suspense, 
counted  the  strokes.  Before  the  last  stroke  fell,  the  golden 
figure  burst  into  flame,  in  the  bright  light  of  the  sun. 

Then,  in  unison,  without  any  pause,  all  joined  in  one  mighty 
chorus,  stately,  solemn,  and  simple,  that  soared  into  the  spa- 


THE   QUEST  503 

clous  vault  like  a  song  of  thanks  and  of  promise  in  one  —  a 
renewal  for  the  year  to  come  of  the  bond  of  love  between  God 
and  man. 

And  so  strong  and  deep  was  their  emotion  that  some  sank 
to  their  knees  as  if  overcome,  while  others  rested  head  or 
hands  upon  the  shoulders  of  those  standing  in  front  of  them. 
But  the  greater  number  stood  erect,  and  sang  loudly  and 
clearly,  regarding  the  scene  with  bright,  joyful,  and  spirited 
looks. 

Johannes  himself  felt  thankful  and  happy  beyond  words  — 
like  a  child  under  his  Father's  blessing,  in  the  heart  of  his 
home. 

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt  !  !  !  went  the  alarm-clock  on  the  black 
mantel-shelf  above  the  Dutch  oven  in  Marjon's  small  kitchen. 
The  iron  bed  shuddered  and  creaked;  and  Marjon  sprang  up, 
with  the  sleepy,  mechanical  haste  of  one  accustomed  to  begin 
work  at  dawn,  to  stop  the  alarm. 

There  stood  the  unpainted  table,  the  oil-lamp,  and  the  un- 
washed coffee-set,  and  Marjon  began  to  put  things  in  order. 

And  out  from  the  stifling,  dark  alcove  came,  one  by  one, 
the  seven  children  of  Van  Tijn  —  to  wash  themselves  at  the 
kitchen  pump  and  to  dry  themselves  with  one  and  the  same 
old  hand-towel. 


XXIV 

Already  they  had  been  twice  to  the  hospital,  on  visitors' 
days  —  Wednesday  and  Saturday  —  but  they  had  not  been 
permitted  to  see  Markus. 

He  still  lay  unconscious,  and  the  doctor  did  not  yet  know 
whether  an  operation  would  be  necessary. 

And  when  Johannes  implored  that  they  might  only  look 
upon  the  face  of  their  friend,  to  know  if  he  was  still  alive, 
it  availed  nothing.  Their  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Cijfer  or 
with  Professor  Bommeldoos  had  no  influence  here.  There 
was  no  disposition  to  be  indulgent.  The  feeling  of  hostility 
toward  his  Brother  was  general,  and  permeated  the  humane, 
scientific  atmosphere  of  the  hospital  to  such  an  extent  that 
Johannes  also  was  received  more  coldly  because  he  appeared 
to  be  a  relative  of  this  man.  For  not  even  doctors  and  nurses 
are  exempt  from  the  suspicion  of  being  sensitive  to  the  opinions 
of  others. 

The  strain  of  their  sorrow  was  so  great  that  Johannes  and 
Marjon  each  feared  lest  the  other  would  be  ill  —  they  ate  so 
little  and  looked  so  worn,  and  their  cheeks,  although  never  very 
round  and  blooming,  grew  so  pale  and  sunken. 

At  last  —  at  last,  they  might  go,  for  their  third  call,  and 
join  the  stream  of  callers  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  from  two 
o'clock  until  four.  Marjon  carried  some  white  and  purple 
asters;  Johannes,  a  bunch  of  grapes  bought  with  money  care- 
fully saved,  cent  by  cent. 

Entering  the  ward,  they  looked  in  great  anxiety  over  the 
two  long  rows  of  beds.  They  searched  for  the  face  they  knew 
so  well,  but  did  not  find  it.  Timidly,  they  made  inquiry  of 
the  nurse  who  sat  writing,  in  the  middle  of  the  ward,  at  a  little 
table  covered  with  bandages  and  remedies.     Without  reply- 

504 


THEQUEST  505 

ing,  she  pointed  to  a  bed.  Then  they  saw  the  dark  eyes, 
turned  toward  them  with  a  kind  smile. 

They  had  not  recognized  him,  for  his  beard  was  gone,  his 
head  enveloped  with  wrappings,  and  his  face  covered  with 
plasters. 

He  beckoned  them,  and  extended  his  emaciated  white  hand. 
They  flew  to  him. 

Two  young  men  stood  beside  his  bed.  They  were  students. 
One  of  them,  who  seemed  to  have  just  made  an  examination 
of  Markus,  was  rather  gross  in  appearance,  and  had  a  flushed, 
uneasy  face.  The  perspiration  stood  in  drops  on  his  forehead. 
The  other  stood  by,  indifferently,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Have  you  got  at  it  ?"  asked  the  latter. 

"Confound  it,  no,"  replied  the  other,  wiping  his  forehead 
with  his  sleeve.  "It's  a  thundering  complicated  case. 
There's  a  fracture  of  the  skull;  but  the  paralysis  I  can't  account 
for.  It's  a  mean  trick  of  Snijman's  to  pick  out  such  a  business 
for  me,  just  to  pester  me.  I  '11  be  sure  to  fail  in  the  examina- 
tion. 

"Come,  come,  old  fellow,  you're  in  a  pet.  It's  a  pretty  lit- 
tle chance  for  you  —  one  to  brag  about.  Come  to-night  to 
the  quiz,  and  go  through  the  brain  anatomy  again  with  me. 
Bring  your  Henle  along.  I  '11  give  you  such  a  lift  you  '11 
astonish  them,  old  man.  But  we  must  be  off  now,  for  it  's 
visiting-day." 

And,  taking  the  arm  of  his  comrade,  who  sighed  and  packed 
up  his  instruments,  he  led  him  out  of  the  ward. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  way  they  have  fixed  me  up, 
children?"  asked  Markus,  cheerfully,  as  he  took  Marjon's 
flowers  —  with  his  left  hand,  because  he  could  not  move  the 
other. 

But  neither  Marjon  nor  Johannes  could  speak.  They 
stood  with  trembling  lips,  swallowing  back  their  tears.  Then 
they  sat  down,  one  each  side  of  the  bed,  and  Marjon  rested 
her  forehead  on  his  helpless  hand. 


5o6  THEOUEST 

Johannes  held  out  to  him  the  grapes,  and  tried  to  greet  him 
in  words;  but  he  could  not. 

"Children,"  said  Markus,  gently,  yet  with  a  rebuke  in  his 
tones,  "I  notice  that  you  cry  altogether  too  much.  Do  you 
remember,  Johannes,  when  you  sat  down  in  the  street  beside 
the  scissors'-wheel,  and  how  I  reproved  you  ?  When  one  cries 
so  readily,  it  looks  as  it  the  great  sorrow  of  mankind  were  not 
felt.  He  who  has  once  realized  that,  weeps  no  more  over  his 
own  little  troubles;  for  the  greater  grief  should  hold  him 
bathed  in  tears,  both  day  and  night." 

At  these  words  the  two  controlled  themselves  in  some 
degree,  and  Marjon  said: 

"  But  this  is  not  a  trifling  thing  that  they  have  done  to  you." 

"It  is  not  a  trifling  thino-  that  the  world  is  so  that  this 
could  happen.  That  is  frightful;  but  it  remains  equally 
frightful  whether  this  befell  me  or  not.  And  that  it  has  been 
done  to  me,  and  I  have  submitted,  is  cause  for  joyfulness,  not 
for  weeping." 

Then  said  Johannes: 

"But,  dear  Markus,  what  has  it  availed,  and  what  will  be 
the  good  of  it  ?  No  one  is  sorry  for  it.  No  one  will  ever  per- 
ceive the  significance  of  it.  No  one,  at  this  instant,  has  any 
further  thought  of  you,  nor  of  your  words." 

Markus,  regarding  him  attentively,  with  an  earnest  ex- 
pression, as  if  to  urge  upon  him  a  deeper  reflection,  said: 

"But,  Johannes,  do  you  not  remember  the  story  of  that  little 
seed  —  the  most  diminutive  of  all  seeds  ?  It  falls  to  the 
ground  —  is  trodden  under  foot  —  no  one  sees  it  —  it  ap- 
pears to  be  completely  lost  and  dead.  But  in  good  time  it 
begins  to  germinate,  and  grows  to  be  a  plant.  And  the  plant 
bears  new  seeds,  which  are  scattered  by  the  wind.  And  the 
new  seeds  become  new  plants,  and  the  whole  terrestrial  globe 
becomes  too  small  for  the  might  oi  what  proceeds  from  that 
insignificant  seed.  Has  Johannes  forgotten  me  and  my 
words  .?" 

Johannes  shook  his  head. 


THEQUEST  507 

"Well,  then,  Johannes  and  Marjon  are  not  the  only  ones 
with  ears  to  hear,  are  they  ?  The  spark  has  fallen,  and  shines 
in  secret.  The  seed  Hes  in  the  dark  ground,  and  waits  its 
time. 

Gradually  the  ward  began  to  fill  with  visitors.  Relatives 
were  now  sitting  beside  each  bed.  There  were  wives  and 
mothers  with  children,  little  and  big,  and  some  had  babes  at 
the  breast.  A  subdued  murmuring  filled  the  place,  where  the 
smell  of  old  and  long-worn  clothing  mingled  with  the  sharp 
scent  of  the  disinfectants. 

"Stay  with  me,  children,  as  long  as  is  permitted.  The 
instrument  is  broken,  and  will  soon  cease  to  sound.  Listen 
to  it  so  long  as  it  vibrates." 

"Are  you  going  to  leave  us,  Markus?"  asked  Johannes, 
setting  his  teeth  to  keep  command  of  himself. 

"I  have  performed  my  task,"  said  Markus. 

"Already?  Already?"  they  both  asked.  "We  cannot 
spare  you.      We  might   for  a  little  while,  but  not  for  always." 

"Where  is  your  memory,  Johannes  ?  You  possess  me 
always,  and  some  time  I  shall  be  still  closer  to  you  than  I 
now  am." 

"But,  Markus,  how  can  I,  without  you,  help  people  in  their 
sorrow  ?  Indeed,  I  am  far  from  knowing  the  way  yet.  It 
seems  as  though  I  ought  to  be  asking  the  way,  for  weeks  to 
come,  day  and  night." 

"Dear  Johannes,  I  have  said  enough.  To  ask  day  and 
night  would  help  you  no  more  than  to  think  day  and  night 
upon  what  I  have  already  said  to  you.  It  seems  —  does  it  not 
—  as  if  I  had  spoken  little,  and  done  little,  among  men.  But 
recall  how  the  same  was  said  of  old,  and  how  it  has  never, 
through  many  words,  become  clearer,  but  always  more  dim. 
Where  the  plain  commandments  have  not  enough  weight, 
much  speaking  has  not  a  particle  of  effect.  Has  not  the  best 
already  been  said  —  two  thousand  years  ago  ?  Millions  have 
torn  and  martyred  one  another  on  account  of  additions,  because 


5o8  THEQUEST 

of  misinterpretations,  explanations,  and  commentaries;  but  the 
simple  commandment,  known  of  all,  they  have  not  kept.  Con- 
cerning the  swaddling-cloths  they  have  fought  bitterly;  but 
the  babe  itself  they  have  left  to  the  svpine  and  the  dogs." 

They  were  permitted  to  stay  throughout  the  time  of  visit- 
ing, and  Johannes  related  where  he  had  been  during  the  night 
of  his  betrothal. 

Marjon,  having  listened,  asked: 

"Markus,  if  he  really  saw  the  whole  world  as  it  is  to  be, 
why  did  he  neither  see  nor  hear  anything  of  Markus  him- 
self.?" 

But  Markus  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  weary  of  listening,  laid 
back  his  head  with  a  contented  smile,  and  said,  gently: 

"The  faithful  architect  is  not  concerned  about  his  own  re- 
nown, but  about  the  work  itself." 

Then  he  indicated  that  he  wished  to  rest;  and,  exchanging 
looks,  they  slowly  stood  up,  and  with  reluctant  steps,  absorbed 
in  deep  thought,  they  turned  away. 

On  Saturday,  when  they  came  again,  they  looked  straight 
over  to  Markus'  bed,  for  now  they  knew  where  he  lay.  But 
an  icy  fear  came  upon  them  when  they  caught  sight  of  his  face, 
below  the  white  swathing-cloths.  It  was  like  sallow  wax,  with 
insunken  eyes,  and  lay  pressed  into  the  pillow.  They  thought 
he  was  dead. 

And  when  they  stopped,  hesitating  and  trembling,  the  patient 
in  the  cot  next  that  of  Markus  motioned  to  them  to  come 
nearer. 

"Come  on,  you,"  said  the  man,  a  disreputable  old  fellow 
with  a  bandage  around  his  bald  head,  a  crooked  nose,  and  a 
shaggy  beard  stained  a  yellow-brown  with  tobacco-juice.  "He 
isn't  cold  yet,  but  he's  snoozin'  away's  steady's  a  new-born 
babe.     Isn't  that  so,  Sjaak  ?" 

And  Sjaak,  the  patient  on  the  other  side  —  a  drunkard  with 
a  broken  leg,  and  a  face  full  of  red  pimples  —  cried  out:  "Hear 
me!     I  couldn  't  sleep  better  meself —  after  a  couple  o'  drinks." 


THEQUEST  509 

"Just  make  yerselves  easy,"  said  the  old  fellow.  "Don't 
be  upset  about  it.     He'd  be  sorry  if  you   went  away  again." 

"A  little  less  noise,  number  eight,"  called  the  nurse.  "Talk 
quietly." 

"Is  he  your  brother  .f"'  asked  Sjaak,  in  a  whisper  this  time. 
Johannes  nodded. 

"They've  given  him  the  very  devil,"  said  the  old  man,  "just 
as  they  gave  it  to  me.  Though  I  believe  they  served  me 
about  right." 

"I'm  askin'  a  great  deal,"  said  Sjaak;  "but  if  we've  both 
always  got  to  stay  in  this  here  boardin'-house  —  him  and  me 
—  why,  then,  I'd  like  to  ask  the  good  Lord  not  to  let  him  kick 
the  bucket  before  I  kicks  it.  Because  if  I've  got  to  stay  here 
alone  with  that  old  red-nose  there,  and  my  own  damn  wicked 
carcass,  then  —  hi!  hi!  hi!" 

Then  came  a  sudden  outburst  of  maudlin  sobs,  due,  no 
doubt,  to  a  condition  of  enforced  abstinence. 

"Silence!"  called  the  Sister,  sternly. 

Markus  waked  up  and  greeted  his  two  loved  ones.  Then 
he  looked  at  his  neighbors,  right  and  left,  and  asked: 

"Have  you  been  childish  again,  Sjaak?  I  heard  you,  in- 
deed. No  one  is  forever  doomed,  I  tell  you,  neither  you  nor 
old  Bram  —  if  you  take  care  from  now  on  to  drink  water  only, 
and  not  gin." 

**I  swear  I  will,  Marrakus  —  swear  it  by  God!"  said  Sjaak, 
striking  himself  on  the  breast. 

"You  cannot  do  that,  Sjaak;  neither  would  it  help.  After 
a  half-glass  of  beer  you  will  have  forgotten  all  your  vows." 

"No  beer,  either,"  said  Sjaak.     "So  help  ..." 

"Be  quiet  now,  Sjaak.  Do  not  talk  about  it,  but  let  it 
alone." 

"Mar-r-akus,"  said  Old  Bram,  in  a  hoarse,  quaking  voice, 
at  the  same  time  sitting  up,  with  his  griffin-like  knuckles 
stretched  out  over  the  woollen  covers,  "tell  me  now,  the  honest 
truth:  can  it  be  possible  for  such  a  old  hulk  as  me  to  escape 
eternal  damnation  ?     I  'm  shy  of  the  priest,  but  I  was  brought 


510  THEOUEST 

up  a  Christian:  and  now  that  I  can't  get  no  booze  here,  I  settle 
down  in  me  bed  o'  nights  with  the  jim-jams,  and  shake  like  an 
earthquake.  But  if  /  don't  have  to  go  to  the  devil,  they  can 
go  to  blazes  with  their  bloomin'  damnation!  They  can  use 
their  fires  to  dry  the  shirts  of  the  angels,  or  to  bake  butter- 
cakes!  —  it's  all  the  same  to  me." 

"Listen,  my  man,"  said  Markus,  kindly.  "I  am  going  to 
speak  to  you  from  my  heart.     Will  you  believe  me  ?" 

"That  I  will,  Marrakus,"  replied  the  old  man,  seriously, 
holding  up  a  withered  talon. 

"When  I  stand  before  the  Father  above  —  if  He  let  me  into 
heaven  —  I  shall  say,  I  will  not  enter  in  until  Old  Bram  also 
is  redeemed  from  hell  —  even  if  he  be  the  very  last  one." 

For  a  time  the  old  fellow  continued  to  gaze  into  the  earnest 
eyes  of  Markus.  Then  his  grotesque  face  assumed  a  whim- 
sical grin,  and  he  let  himself  fall  back  on  his  pillow,  with  a  thud. 
There  he  lay,  dumfounded,  staring  at  the  ceiling  —  grinning, 
mumbling,  and  shaking  his  head.  Johannes  heard  him 
whisper,  "God-a-mighty!  —  Jesus  Christ  —  Jesus  Mary  — 
God-a-mighty  forever  — "  and  so  on  and  on. 

Gently,  yet  not  without  some  bitterness,  Marjon  asked: 

"But,  Markus,  is  he  worthy  of  that.''  The  fellow  is  half- 
witted." 

Markus  replied,  "And  Keesje,  then?  Have  you  not  shed 
tears  over  him  ?     There  is  more  need  for  them  here." 

Thereat  the  two  lapsed. into  thoughtful  silence.  At  length 
Johannes,  sighing  deeply,  exclaimed,  "Oh,  how  many  enigmas 
there  are!     The  golden  key  seems  farther  away  than  ever." 

"Yet  it  is  nearer,"  said  Markus.  "Because  you  have 
chosen  Me  and  Life,  instead  of  Windeklnd  and  Death. 

"The  lily  of  eternal  wisdom  is  a  tender  flower,  which  needs 
to  grow  slowly,  and  of  itself. 

"The  Father  hath  sent  us  all  forth  to  search  for  it;  but  no 
one  findeth  it  alone. 

"Eternal  wisdom  is  like  a  bashful  maiden:  she  flees  from 
him    who    pursues    too    recklessly;    but    that   one   who   turns 


THE    QUEST  511 

aside,  and  first  follows  after  love  —  him  she  coyly  comes  to 
find." 

When  Markus  had  said  this,  Marjon  blurted  out: 

"Johannes  and  I  are  husband  and  wife." 

Markus  nodded,  without  appearing  at  all  surprised. 

"Will  you  join  us  in  truth,  Markus  ?"  asked  Johannes. 

"Can  I  give  truth,  Johannes,  where  it  is  not.''"  asked 
Markus. 

"That  is  not  what  I  mean,"  said  Johannes,  in  confusion; 
"but  I  will  promise  to  be  true  to  her,  in  the  sense  you  mean." 

"Consider  your  words,  Johannes.  A  promise  is  a  prophecy. 
Who  can  prophesy  without  full  knowledge  ?  This  man  be- 
side me  here  promised  not  to  drink.  He  intended  not  to;  but 
what  is  his  promise  worth,  without  knowledge  ?  Have  you 
knowledge  of  your  lasting  faith.''  Then  say,  'I  desire  to  be 
true,'  and  show  it.  But  make  no  promises;  for  whoever 
makes  an  idle  promise  is  guilty;  and  whoever  keeps  a  false 
promise  is  more  guilty  than  he  who  breaks  it." 

Then  said  Marjon  to  Johannes:  "I  do  not  wish  you  to  make 
any  promises,  but  I  want  your  loyalty.  If  you  will  not  remain 
true  without  promises,  I  do  not  wish  them.  Can  you  love  only 
because  you  have  promised  to  ?  For  such  love  as  that  I 
would  not  thank  you." 

"Then  I  will  say  that  I  feel  true,  so  far  as  I  know  myself," 
said  Johannes,  "and  I  will  promise  that  I  will  do  everything 
in  my  power  to  remain  true." 

"That  is  more  considerately  said,"  added  Markus. 

"  But  where  we  are  to  set  up  housekeeping  I  cannot  yet  see  — 
he  a  piccolo,  znd  I  only  a  housemaid!  That  doesn't  bring  in 
much.     I  think  we  shall  yet  fetch  up  in  a  tingel-tangel."  ^ 

"It  cannot  make  any  difference  to  me  where  we  find  our- 
selves, if  only  I  know  I  am  contributing  something  toward  the 
good  life  —  toward  the  happiness  of  all  those  fine  and  dear 
people  whom  I  have  seen.  But  there  will  be  small  chance  of 
that,  either  as  piccolo  or  in  a  tingel-tangel." 

1  A  kind  of  cheap  music-hall. 


512  THEQUEST 

"Children,"  said  Markus,  "out  of  the  word  springs  the  deed, 
and  out  of  the  deed  springs  Hfe.  And  every  one  who  speaks 
the  good  word  creates  the  deed  and  fosters  Hfe." 

"Good,"  said  Johannes.  "We  will  speak  the  word  to  all 
who  have  ears,  so  long  as  we  shall  live;  and  even  if  in  prison, 
we  shall  speak  it.  And  I  have  not  only  a  mouth,  hut  hands 
also  that  are  willing  to  do." 

"Such  hands  will  always  find  something  to  do  —  with  more 
to  follow;  for  the  word  and  the  deed  are  like  the  forest  and 
the  rain:  the  forest  attracts  the  rain,  and  the  rain  makes  the 
forest  grow." 

"But  how,  then,"  cried  Johannes,  "how?  I  see  no  way, 
no  opportunity  for  my  deeds. " 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  told  you  about  the  field-laborers  ? 
That  tells  it  all.  And  this  I  say  to  you,  Johannes:  constant 
love  makes  one  invincible;  love,  a  sure  memory,  and  pa- 
tience. For  him  who  draws  nigh  to  the  Father,  and  who  for- 
gets not,  who  remains  always  the  same,  —  for  such  a  one, 
although  he  still  be  weak,  God  always  opens  the  way  through 
every  obstruction  and  perplexity.  He  is  like  one  who  con- 
tinues to  urge  gently,  in  one  direction,  through  throngs  that 
go  —  they  know  not  whither.  He  will  make  progress  where 
others  lag  behind.  And  think  of  it,  children,  the  highest  and 
noblest  thing  you  can  long  for  is  still  only  sad  and  inferior 
compared  with  what  you  can  attain  through  a  calm  and 
steadfastly  determined  love." 

The  bell  which  warned  the  visitors  that  it  was  four  o'clock, 
and  time  to  leave,  had  sounded  some  time  ago,  and  the  ward 
was  nearly  empty.  The  head  nurse  softly  clapped  her  hands, 
to  indicate  to  Johannes  and  Marjon  that  they  must  pass  on. 
They  were  obliged  to  rise. 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  Professor  Snijman  came  in  with 
two  assistants.  The  professor  was  a  tall  man,  with  a  beard- 
less face,  and  brown  hair  which  curled  behind  his  ears  and 
about  his  carefully  shaven  neck.     He  had  a  hard  and  haughty 


THE    QUEST 


513 


look,  with  an  assumption  of  stately  condescension.  With 
short  steps  he  walked  up  to  Markus'  bed,  followed  by  the  two 
young  men  —  his  assistants  —  with  little  pointed,  blonde 
beards,  and  in  spotless  white  linen  coats. 

"Well,  well!  Come!  Visitors  still?  Not  getting  on  very 
fast,  are  you.''"  said  the  professor. 

At  the  same  time  he  studied  Markus  with  the  cool  calcula- 
tion of  a  gardener  considering  whether  he  will  uproot  the  shrub 
or  let  it  remain.  Then  he  took  Markus'  paralyzed  hand  in 
his  own,  and  moved  it  meditatively. 

"It  seems  to  me,  gentlemen  —  don't  you  think?  —  that 
we'll  have  to  try  what  the  knife  can  do  here.  Don't  you 
think  so?  It's  a  casus  perditus,  anyway,  isn't  it?  And  who 
knows  ?  .  .  .  removal  of  the  bone  splinter  —  relieving  the 
pressure  on  the  motor-centre  .  .  .  Possibly  splendid  re- 
sults, don't  you  think  ?" 

The  assistants  nodded,  and  whispered  to  each  other  and  to 
the  professor.     Markus  said: 

"Professor,  will  you  not  let  me  rest  in  peace  ?  I  am  quite 
resigned  to  my  condition.  I  know  that  it  will  be  labor  lost; 
and  I  am  not  willing  to  be  made  unconscious." 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  professor,  half  commanding, 
half  in  pretended  kindness.  "Not  so  gloomy,  not  so  crest- 
fallen. We'll  just  see  if  you  can't  have  the  use  of  this  arm 
again,  shall  we  not  ?  You  need  not  be  afraid.  Everything 
is  safe,  and  no  pain.  Would  you  not  like  to  be  able  again  to 
draw  on  your  own  blouse,  to  cut  your  meat,  and  to  fill  your 
pipe?  Come,  come!  Keep  up  courage  —  keep  up  courage. 
Sister,  to-morrow  —  ten  o'clock  —  on  the  operating-table." 

Then  to  Marjon  and  Johannes: 

"Hello,  young  folks,  it's  after  four.  Out  of  the  ward, 
quick!" 

Markus  put  out  his  hand,  which  they  both  kissed,  and  said: 
"Till  I  see  you  again." 


XXV 

The  next  Wednesday,  at  two  o'clock,  when  they  came  again 
with  the  stream  of  visitors,  and,  with  the  eagerness  of  those 
who  thirst  and  know  where  they  will  find  water,  hastened  to 
the  ward  where  Markus  lay,  they  saw,  as  they  entered,  three 
green  screens  around  his  bed. 

They  had  not  yet  learned  what  that  means  in  a  hospital 
ward,  and  they  stepped  up  to  the  bed  as  hastily  as  ever,  ex- 
pecting that  Markus  might  now  be  able  to  speak  to  them  with 
more  privacy.  But  Sjaak,  at  number  six,  saw  them  coming, 
and,  thrusting  out  his  lower  lip  compassionately,  he  shook  his 
red  head. 

"Gone!"  said  he. 

And  Old  Bram,  on  the  other  side: 

"Just  missed  him!     Gone  —  this  mornin'!" 

"Gone!"  exclaimed  Johannes,  terrified  and  not  under- 
standing.    "Where?" 

"Well,"  replied  Sjaak,  "if  he'd  only  come  back  and  tell  me 
where,  I'd  know  more  than  I  do." 

And  Bram,  whom  Sjaak  could  not  see,  on  account  of  the 
screen,  said  to  Marjon: 

"He  promised  me,"  striking  the  woolen  covers  with  his  fist, 
"that  I'll  not  be  lost.  He  promised  it,  and  I  count  on  it.  I 
just  do!" 

"What  has  happened  to  him?"  asked  Marjon,  gradually 
comprehending. 

"They  operated  on  him,"  said  Sjaak.  "They  got  the  ash- 
can  out  of  his  brains.  If  he'd  lived,  then  he'd  'a'  walked 
again.     He'd  'a'  left  the  premises  now,  if  he'd  only  lived." 

"Come  with  me,  Marjon,"  said  Johannes;  and  he  led  her 
away.     Then  softly,  "Shall  we  ask  to  see  him  —  now  ?" 

Marjon,  pale  as  death,  but  calm,  replied:  "Not  I,  Jo.     I 

S14 


THE    QUEST  515 

want  to  keep  the  living  picture  before  me  as  a  last  remem- 
brance, not  the  dead  one." 

Johannes,  as  pale  as  she,  silently  acquiesced. 

Then  he  went  to  the  head  nurse  and  asked,  softly  and 
modestly : 

"When  is  the  funeral  to  be,  Sister?" 

The  Sister,  a  small,  trim,  pale  and  spectacled  lady,  with  a 
rather  sour  but  yet  not  heartless  face,  gave  the  two  a  swift 
glance,  and  said,  somewhat  nervously  and  hurriedly: 

"Oh,  you  mean  number  seven,  do  you  not .?  Yes.?  Well,  we 
know  nothing  about  him.  There  is  indeed  no  family,  is  there  ? 
There  was  no  statement  of  birth  —  no  ticket  of  removal  — 
nothing.     There  is  —  ah    .    .    .    there  is  to  be  no  funeral." 

"No  funeral.  Sister!"  exclaimed  Marjon.  "But  what  then  ? 
What  —  what  is  to  be  done  with    .    .    .   with  him  ?" 

Then  the  nurse,  with  a  scientific  severity  probably  more 
cruel  than  she  purposed,  said: 

"The  cadaver  goes  to  the  dissecting-rooms,  Miss." 

For  a  time  the  two  stood  speechless  —  completely  dismayed 
and  horrified.  They  had  not  thought  of  that  possibility  — 
they  were  not  prepared  for  such  a  thing.  They  both  felt  it 
unbearably  gruesome,  now  that  they  faced  the  fact,  and  were 
without  advice. 

"Is  there  no  help  for  it.  Sister?"  asked  Johannes,  stammer- 
ing in  his  confusion.  "Can  it  not  .  .  .  can  it  not  .  .  . 
from  the  poor  fund.    .    .    ?" 

He  comprehended  that  it  would  be  a  question  of  money, 
but  he  could  see  no  relief. 

More  practical,  Marjon  immediately  asked,  "What  would 
it  cost,  Sister  ?" 

"I  am  sorry.  Miss,"  replied  the  nurse,  her  feelings  now 
really  touched  for  them,  "but  I  fear  you  have  come  too  late. 
You  ought  to  have  asked  about  that  in  advance.  The  pro- 
fessor has  given  express  orders." 

"Twenty-five  gulden,  Sister?  Would  that  be  enough?" 
asked  Marjon,  perseveringly. 


5i6  '  THE    (^UEST 

The  Sister  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Possibly,  if  you  ask  the  professor,  and  if  you  can  prove 
that  you  belong  to  the  family.     But  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  late." 
The  two  turned  away  in  silence. 

"What  shall  we  do,  Marjon  ?"  asked  Johannes,  when  they 
were  in  the  street. 

"There  is  no  use  in  going  to  that  professor,"  said  Marjon. 
"He's  a  conceited  fool  —  bound  to  have  his  own  way.  But 
it's  a  matter  of  money." 

"I  have  nothing,  Marjon,"  said  Johannes. 

"Neither  have  I,  Jo  —  at  least,  nothing  to  begin  with.  But 
we  must  go  after  the  people  who  Jo  have  something.  You 
know  who." 

"It  is  miserable  work,  Marjon." 

"It  is  that;  but  we  shall  maybe  get  still  harder  work  on 
his  account.     Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  neither  will  I  shun  it.  I  am  going, 
now.     I  know  well  where  you  want  me  to  go." 

"Good!  They  are  the  richest,  are  they  not  .^  But  I,  too,  am 
going  out  to  get  something.     You  might  not  succeed  there." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Where  there  is  money,  Jo,  —  to  the  circus,  and  to  Vrede- 
best." 

"Have  you  enough  to  get  there  with  ?" 

"Yes.     I've  enough  for  that." 

Great  was  the  indignation  in  the  Roodhuis  and  Van  Tijn 
households  when  they  heard  of  the  event.  Sentimentality, 
the  enjoyment  of  the  sensational,  and  attachment  to 
tradition  — -  all  this  so  moved  the  good  women  that  their 
meagre  purses  contributed,  without  delay,  three  gulden  and 
twenty-four  cents. 

In  the  meantime  Johannes  dragged  himself  to  Dolores'  villa. 

In  the  drawing-room,  beside  a  brightly  flaming  wood  fire, 

sat  Van   Lieverlee  engaged   in   lively  conversation  with   two 


THE    QUEST  517 

young-lady  callers,  for  whom  the  countess  was  pouring  tea. 
Into  this  circle  came  Johannes,  with  his  sad  heart  and  his 
lugubrious  petition. 

He   entered  hurriedly,  awkwardly,  abruptly,  without  heed-, 
ing  the  astonished  and  disdainful   looks   of  the  visitors,  nor 
the    very  evident    consternation    which    his    poverty-stricken 
appearance,  his  untoward  entrance,  and  his  melancholy  tid- 
ings made  upon  host  and  hostess. 

"But,  Johannes,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  "I  thought  you  were 
more  philosophical  and  had  higher  ideas  than  that.  It  seems 
to  me  that  —  for  your  friend  who  claimed  to  be  a  magician,  and 
for  yourself  who  believed  in  him  —  it  makes  a  sad  lot  of  bother 
what  happens  to  the  dust  out  of  which  his  temporal  presence 
was  formed." 

"I  thought,"  replied  Johannes,  "that  as  you  are  now  a  Cath- 
olic, you  might  perhaps  feel  that  you  could  do  something 
for.  .  .  ." 

"Certainly,"  said  Van  Lieverlee,  scornfully,  "if  your  friend 
also  were  a  Catholic.     Was  he  ?" 

"No,  Mijnheer, "  replied  Johannes. 

"But,  Johannes,"  said  the  countess,  "why  was  not  your 
friend  in  a  burial  club  ?  Nowadays  all  people  of  his  class  be- 
long to  such  clubs.     Is  that  not  so,  Freule  ?" 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  Honorable  Lady.  "Every  decent 
poor  person  belongs  to  a  club.  But  it's  astonishing  how 
people  will  complain  of  their  poverty  and  yet  be  so  thought- 
less and  careless. " 

"Yes,  astonishing,"  sighed  the  other  visitor. 

"Then  you  will  do  nothing  for  me?"  asked  Johannes,  not 
without  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  tones. 

The  countess  looked  at  Van  Lieverlee,  who  frowned  and 
shook  his  head. 

"No,  dear  Johannes.  For  anything  else,  quite  willingly; 
but  for  this  there  seems  to  be  no  justification." 

A  whole  night  and  day  passed  in  which  nothing  could  be 


5i8  THE    QUEST 

done,  since  Marjon  had  not  yet  returned;  and  the  three  gulden 
and  twenty-four  cents  had  only  increased  by  very  slow  degrees 
to  about  five  gulden. 

At  last,  on  Saturday  forenoon,  a  carriage  drew  up  to  the 
door  of  the  little  coffee-house,  and  out  stepped  a  stately  figure 
in  black,  which,  with  its  old-time  jetted  bonnet,  heavy  rustling 
black-silk  skirt,  full  mantilla,  and  a  dainty,  lavenderlike 
suggestion  of  linen  chests,  and  of  choice  silken  souvenirs, 
entirely  filled  the  narrow  entrance. 

"Aunt  Serena!"  cried  Johannes.  And  in  a  quick  impulse 
of  warm  affection  he  threw  his  arms  around  her. 

"It  is  herself!"  said  Marjon,  excited  by  her  success.  "And 
I  've  got  ten  gulden  from  the  dark  woman,  who  is  not  so  bad 
as  I  thought  she  was." 

Aunt  Serena  received  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  was  soon  on  good 
terms  with  the  Roodhuis  family. 

In  the  same  carriage  that  had  brought  her,  Marjon  and 
Johannes  drove  with  her  to  the  hospital.  They  were  sure 
of  success,  now,  relying  upon  Aunt  Serena's  wealth. 

But  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  they  arrived  too 
late  —  that  the  doorman,  and  the  doctor  on  duty,  gave  them 
positive  assurance  that,  for  all  the  gold  in  the  world,  there 
could  now  be  no  question  of  burial  —  because  no  one  could 
reassemble  what  had  once  been  the  body  of  their  friend. 

"Wretches!"  muttered  Marjon,  as  they  went  homeward. 
But  Johannes  cried  out:  "Oh,  Marjon,  Marjon,  the  time  is 
not  yet  come  for  men  to  honor  their  kings." 

There  was  mourning  only  In  the  dark  alcove  behind  the 
drinking-room  of  the  total-abstainers'  coffee-house;  but  there 
the  mourning,  the  sobbing  and  the  sighing,  were  genuine. 

Before  going  away.  Aunt  Serena  remarked: 

"You  see,  the  golden  apples  of  my  little  tree  were  good  for 
something,  after  all." 


THE    QUEST  519 

"Ah,  Aunt  Serena,"  replied  Johannes,  "do  not  think  me 
proud.  I  did  not  come  to  you  before,  because  I  was  ashamed, 
even  though  you  had  said  I  need  not  be.  But  he  has  cured  me 
of  looking  down  upon  others  because  they  do  not  yet  think  as 
I  do." 

"Then  you  will  not  be  too  proud  to  cherish  my  little  apple- 
tree,  if  I  leave  it  for  you  to  transplant  into  your  own  garden  ?" 

And  she  laughingly  continued: 

"That  is  not  so  kindly  intentioned  as  it  appears  to  be.  I 
have  a  mischievous  pleasure  in  thinking  of  your  embarrassment 
at  not  knowing  how  to  use  it  better  than  I  did." 

"That  is  naughty  of  you,  Aunt  Serena,"  said  Marjon. 

"One  thing  I  know,"  said  Johannes.  "I  shall  spread 
broadcast,  the  'little  apples,'  that  from  them  new  trees  may 
grow;  for  he  taught  us  that." 

"Good!  You  must  come,  some  time,  and  explain  that  to 
me.  God  bless  you  both!  And  God  bless  your  work,  my 
children." 

"God  bless  you,  Aunt  Serena!     Give  Daatje  our  greetings." 

And  now  I  have  told  you  all  that  I  had  to  tell  about  Little 
Johannes. 


NOTES 

Page     8,  Windekind  =  Child  of  the  JVinde  or  Windflower. 

"  48,  Wistik  =  Would  that  I  knew. 

"  "  Kribblegauw  =  Quarrel  =  quick. 

*♦  78,  Pluizer  =  Shredder. 

"  158,  Rust-oord  =  Place  of  repose. 

"  "  Nooit-gedacht  =  Beyond  thought. 

"  "  Gouda  =  Name  of  town. 

"  381,  Soos  =  Abbreviation  of  Societeit,  or  Club. 

"  388,  Waan  =  Error. 

"  '*  Bangeling  =  Little  coward. 

"  389,  Ginnegap  =  Giggler. 

"  "  Labbekak  =  Duffer, 

**  *•  Goedzak  =  Goody-goody. 

"  494,  Bach  =  P'ountain. 


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